Begin Again
by lindsayandhalstead
Summary: Home. They say it's where you go to rest your bones. To heal. And that's exactly what she needs. But what Erin didn't know was that running into her old patrol partner was about to shake her world like it's never been shaken before, and she just might have to deal with some of the things she thought she left in New York.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey guys! I know a lot of you were really bummed about TBE ending, but hopefully you will come to love this story just as much or more.**

 **I'd like to thank everyone who sent me words of enthusiasm about it along with feedback. Knowing that at least some of you are excited about my new story was the best feeling in the world.**

 **As always, huge thanks to quesera1 for her betaing help, and for always giving me moral support and words of encouragement.**

 **Ready for chapter 1? Yeah? Okay, let's go.**

* * *

Home.

They say it's where you go to rest your bones. To heal.

So maybe this is a good decision, she contemplates, standing at the waterfront, staring at the city she grew up in. The familiar skyline already makes her heart ache for people she's left behind when she took a job in New York and moved. It was a great opportunity, career-wise, and despite the circumstances in which she left her detective job and her cute apartment in New York City, she is glad to be home.

Chicago seems to have a certain hold on her, the kind that makes her keep coming back. Or maybe it's the people—her family that's not really her family, but the people she's lucky enough to call that. The people who showed her what family is supposed to be.

Maybe this is a horrible decision, but the demons dancing on her back have knocked her down, and she knows shaking them won't be easy. And it's why she's come back to her city, to her people. So that she doesn't have to do this alone.

She wonders if she'll look different to them. After all, they say certain events in your life change you forever, and she's certain she'll never feel the same again. She will never be that blind naïve woman again. He took that away from her. They all did. But it's not like it's a visible wound that she can show people, and say, _see, I've been hurt_. It's not visible. It rests somewhere deep inside of her, making its way up every time she goes to sleep and closes her eyes.

But she longs so badly to feel some sort of normal again. To feel like the ground beneath her feet has stopped shaking.

After it happened, the world seemed to have stopped for her. But it didn't stop for anyone else, and she still struggles to keep up with everyone's pace. She needs to accept that she can't keep doing that. She needs to find her own pace again, and she can't do that in New York.

Maybe she'll just have to make a new normal. And where better to do it than home?

* * *

"I'm here to see Sergeant Voight." She's standing on top of the stairs at the entrance to the bullpen.

"I'm sorry, you can't go up there, you have to wait downstairs," a slightly rude woman retorts and buzzes her way in. "Wait downstairs and the desk sergeant will take care of you." She's followed by a man, and at first, she doesn't recognize him. He's just a guy in a leather jacket, following the rude detective that just slightly ruined her day. But then he walks past her, and the familiar scent of his shampoo envelops her, and she recognizes the freckles covering his neck. After all, she did spend two years sitting in a patrol car with him, smelling that same shampoo, and counting those same freckles.

"Jay?"

He stops immediately, looking confused and surprised and happy all at once. Then his mouth spreads into the wide grin she was half in love with when she was a patrol officer and turns towards her. "Erin? My god, it's been what?"

"Too long," she says back with a smile, before he scoops her up and gives her a bear hug. She flinches, but then her body relaxes, and she wraps her arms around his torso. He buffed up, she thinks, feeling the hard muscles under a simple blue Henley. She remembers she used to think it was a crime when he wore them, but now, in combination with those muscles and that leather jacket, it definitely should be illegal.

"What are you doing here?"

"Need to talk to Hank, but apparently I need to wait downstairs," she replies, motioning to the rude woman still standing there, who is eyeing her with something suspiciously resembling jealousy.

"Bullshit, you're coming up with me. The guys are going to lose their shit when they see you."

He's right, of course. She mentally prepares herself for the discomfort, but it doesn't come. Not even when they all wrap her in a hug. She remembers almost everyone from before. Antonio was working vice when she was working patrol, and they had a beef with Hank, but apparently, they got over it if he's working for him now. Al was a regular guest at the family dinner table, and he looks at her now, as always not much for words. "God, you've grown up," he murmurs, before letting Kevin and Adam step in.

"Erin, this is Claire Roberts, I don't think you remember her, she's a newer part of the unit," Jay starts after everyone stops hugging her. She glances at the blonde, nodding politely, even though their start had been anything but pleasant. Maybe she is just having an off day, and that's the reason for her earlier rudeness. "Claire, this is Erin, we used to be patrol partners back in the day."

"Fun times," Erin remembers, and he agrees wholeheartedly. "It's nice to meet you, Claire."

"And here is the guy you're looking for."

She smiles, letting his familiar scent swallow her whole. If she didn't feel like she was home before, she knows she does in the exact moment when he laughs and wraps her into a hug.

"Hey, kiddo. Welcome home."

Those words, and the smile she's getting from the guys let her know that she's made the right choice. And as she steps into Hank's office to discuss the job, she already feels like this is a start of a new beginning.

"So, have you been home yet?"

She shakes her head. "I came straight here."

"You sure you don't want to tell me what prompted this sudden move?"

His gravelly voice echoes in her head. She shakes her head again. Something tells her that maybe he already knows, but being Hank, he doesn't push, and she's grateful for that. Someday, when she's ready, he'll get a whole story. But it's not the time now. Now she just needs to forget and keep moving forward.

He walks back out, the unit observing them both closely.

"Everyone, for those who don't know her, this is Erin Lindsay, and she'll be joining our unit. I'm confident it will be a great fit, and you'll all be happy that the spot is filled, because that means less overtime for you." The reaction is all smiles and one frown, but she'll deal with that later.

But Hank hasn't finished yet. "I think I'll have you riding with Halstead, since you two already know each other."

Jay shoots her a grin, and she grins back against her will. It will be interesting riding with him again, having his back, and dealing with his insane coffee order. She wonders if he still takes his coffee with almond milk. Most of all, she's glad she won't have to sit in a car with someone she doesn't know well.

"Sir, who am I supposed to ride with now?"

"You can ride with Olinsky," Hank huffs back, and Erin glances at Claire. She just came here, and she already has a feeling she has made her first enemy. She hopes the blonde can get over the territorial thing, because she really wants to get along with everyone, but if not, she's got claws and she's not afraid to use them.

* * *

"You held out on me! You didn't say you were moving back, I thought you were just visiting."

"It was a quick decision," she admits. "Good to be back, though. Partner."

"I'll say! Welcome back, partner. Hey, everyone is going to this bar, Molly's. It's where we hang out after work. Why don't you come? I'll buy you a beer. If memory serves me, I still owe you one."

"I can't tonight," she breathes as a reply, happy she actually has a good excuse. "Having dinner with Hank and Camille."

"Oh, well another night then."

"Yeah, definitely. Oh, and Jay?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm still driving."

He looks like she just punched him in the face as she turns on her heels, walking away with a smile. She's been back all of five minutes, but she already feels more like herself than she has in a while. Her phone flashes with a call that wipes the smile right off her face though. She swipes left, almost putting the phone back to her pocket, but she changes her mind and types a text first.

 ** _Stop calling me._**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello! I've been so happy to receive so much feedback on the first chapter. I'm glad you guys are intrigued and liking it.  
**

 **As for their relationship before (I got so many questions) - all will be revealed in good time. Patience grasshoppers :)  
**

 **I would like to promise my beta quesera1 my eternal gratitude. You're the best and I love you.**

* * *

Erin is just about to tuck in and stay up watching reruns of Friends, when a knock pounds on the door. Because she isn't expecting anyone, she reaches for her gun, her barefoot feet padding the floor on her way to answer. A look through the hole reveals one of her favourite people, and she lowers the gun, unlocking the door. His eyes widen at the sight of the Glock, but she puts it away quickly, motioning him inside.

"I thought if you didn't want to hang out at Molly's, I'd bring the hang out to you." He raises the six-pack of her favourite beer in the air to demonstrate. She rolls her eyes and smiles. This was about the fifth invitation to hang out she somehow dodged, and she knows sooner or later someone is going to call her out on it.

"You're always welcome here," she assures, proceeding to give him the grand tour. She skips the bedroom, because it seems too suggestive, and she's not ready to go there yet. If he thinks it's weird, he doesn't say anything, being the gentleman that he always was. It is one of her favourite qualities of him.

Later, they settle on the couch, indulging in some light conversation. She asks about everything she's missed in his life. And considering they haven't seen each other for years, she imagined it's not little.

"I worked undercover for a while, mostly shorter stuff. It was interesting, but when I got the chance at Intelligence I grabbed it real hard."

"How did you? Get the chance I mean?"

He pulls the sleeve on his arm up, revealing hard muscles that have her swallowing hard, but also a bullet wound. "You got shot," she says, nodding with understanding. Cops who take a bullet on the job are more likely to get this kind of an opportunity.

"It didn't hurt that I was dating Dawson's sister at the time."

She throws her head back, laughing. That is such a Jay thing to say. "Was?"

"Turned out she couldn't handle dating a cop. She's married to a firefighter now, Peter Mills. He's a great guy. Oh, and she's one of the owners of Molly's, so if one of these days you decide to come, you'll probably meet her.

"What kind of a bar is it?" She asks carefully.

"It's a firefighter bar, but you've got cops, doctors. Mostly that kind of crowd."

"Maybe next time," she relents, because she really can't cut herself off from the world completely, no matter how tempting it sounds to move into a cave, away from people in general, so she can avoid getting hurt.

He looks as though he's about to ask about her life, so she fakes a yawn. He takes the hint, apologizing he's kept her up so long. She feels almost guilty for making him leave, but she has to. She thanks him for the company, quickly grabbing the bottles from the table, before he can offer to help her clean up and realize she hasn't had a sip.

He doesn't say anything, so she doesn't think he caught it, but the next time he shows up on her doorstep, it's with a pizza and coke, so she wonders if he can still read her that well.

* * *

"I don't like this," Hank scoffs at her, and Camille hushes him right away. They're apparently talking about her relationship with Jay, which makes her want to crawl under the table. But Hank has noticed they've been growing closer, and she's trying to talk him out of separating them as partners.

"You let her make her own decisions, Hank. She's not sixteen anymore. She can separate work and personal life."

Erin laughs, and reaches for more mashed potatoes. It's nice having someone in her corner. Why was she so worried about coming home? Home is laughter, good people, good food. It's a relief to see the love between the people who raised her still growing strong. She gazes at them with affection—how Camille picks off the sprouts from Hank's plate, because she knows he doesn't like them, and how he kisses her for it. It's not just home. It's family. It's roots. It's safety.

After dinner, when Hank excuses himself to take a phone call, Camille pours another glass of wine in Erin's glass. "One of these days you're going to tell me what's going on with you."

"Nothing is going on."

"Please, do not insult me. I'm more your mother than that woman ever was, and if you think that I don't know when something is wrong, you're just deluding yourself. Now help me clean this up."

Erin touches Camille's hand softly, regretting that she's upset her. In the whole world, Camille is the last person she wants to cause any sort of harm. "You're the only mother I ever had," she assures her, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Oh, sweetheart. I'm sorry for prying, I just hate seeing you worked up about something."

Erin finds herself being pulled into a hug, and one she doesn't mind at all. Because this one smells like food and Camille's old perfume and it brings back memories of being a sulky teenager that got another chance at life because two people decided to give it to her.

"How about this—when I'm ready, I'll tell you."

Camille hums with approval of that option, and they stand side by side, washing and drying the dishes. That is the exact moment Erin knows she has made the right choice coming back. Because with everything that's happened, gratitude is exactly the emotion she needs to fill her life with. And the woman standing next to her is exactly the root of her gratitude.

She lets Camille talk her into staying the night, knowing that she enjoys fussing and taking care of her. And someone taking care of her doesn't sound so bad at this moment. Camille heads up to prepare her old room, while she sits with Hank for a while. He knows her well enough to know she didn't tell him everything that happened in New York. She wonders if he made inquiries about it to his contacts (she knows he has those everywhere). But he also knows her well enough to not push.

It has been like this since she can remember. Camille has always been the one to give her a soft nudge into the right direction. Not pushing but giving great advice that ultimately lead her to where she is now. And Hank has always been the one to let her come to it on her own, but he made sure she knew he was always in her corner.

That is what he does now, by placing a hand on her shoulder. A quiet reminder he's there. And she knows in her heart there is nothing in the world either of them wouldn't do for her.

* * *

It's way past eleven when Erin walks into the famous bar everyone keeps telling her so much about. She is caught up on her paperwork, and officially out of excuses, so she decides to join the guys for a drink. Her first impression puts her at ease. It isn't crowded, and the fairy lights over the ceiling make it look cosy.

"Wow, look who made it!" Erin should have known the guys would make a big deal out of this, after she ditched them for almost a month.

"Sorry. Let's just say I wasn't feeling like much of a company back then. This move has been exhausting," she responds, trying to look in a good mood, though her natural instinct is telling her to flee. But she jumps up on the chair, happy that Antonio and Ruzek immediately pull her into a conversation, while Jay gets them all drinks.

She chose a chair next to him for a reason. It's because he makes her feel comfortable like nobody else can, though she soon discovers the guys are a happy bunch. Except for Claire, who is still nursing a grudge because Erin stole her partner, she gets along with everyone, and she relishes in the feeling that was so desperately missing with her old unit.

Jay sets a beer in front of her, not missing the worried glance she throws at the bottle, as if it's going to attack her any minute. "You don't have to drink it. I can get you something else."

"It's fine," she whispers quickly. "I haven't given up drinking completely." Though lately she does prefer other beverages over the once-so-loved booze.

It's a strange feeling when she finds herself laughing at Ruzek's jokes and agreeing to meet Dawson at his gym in the morning to sign up for a membership. She misses being active, and despite the fact she hasn't been back in Chicago for long, it's been on her to-do list, and it feels good to check something off of it.

But the buzzing of her phone inescapably puts her in the sour mood, and she excuses herself, trying to leave money for her beer, but Jay wouldn't hear of it. He walks her to her car, as the gentleman he is, or maybe it's just an excuse to lean his head down and finally brushing his lips over hers. It doesn't even deserve to be called a kiss, because it only lasts a second.

But the tingling in her stomach tells her it was in fact a kiss, and she spends an entire ride home thinking about it.

They meet again next morning, when she shows up at the gym, regretting the promise a little. It's pouring rain outside, and she would've liked nothing more than to roll over in bed and sleep another hour or two, before miserably dragging herself to work.

But she comes, decided to make something out of the dreadful morning. The smile he sends her way when he sees her warming up brightens up her day a little. She keeps hers to herself, not giving away that she has seen him, as she focuses on the exercise. But the tingling in her stomach is back.

"Nice work," he comments, when she heads out. "How about some breakfast?"

"Sure, let me just grab a shower first," she replies, raising a brow at him. "Or were you planning on going to work all sweaty and smelly?" She regrets saying the word 'sweaty' the moment it leaves her mouth, as it carries entirely too much sexual connotation for her liking. She even blushes a little, hoping he won't catch it. She gulps, thinking way back, when for an entire night, his sweaty body pinned her to the mattress and she didn't mind at all. Her teeth catch her bottom lip as she tries to control her breathing.

"Of course not." He rolls his eyes at her. As if she didn't know he was a hygiene freak. "You know I don't like being smelly." He leaves the word sweaty out on purpose. The sentence is heavily charged with a sexual innuendo, and he enjoys the drop of sweat trickling down her throat.

She makes a quick escape to the showers.

Little do they know that as they let the water run down their bodies, washing away the sweat and grime of the workout, they're both thinking about the exact same thing.

 _That night._

* * *

"So, you just left?"

"I had my reasons. I just couldn't stay there."

"Why?"

"Maybe one day I'll tell you," she says, faking a smile as she stuffs her mouth with pancakes. He was generous enough to let her order a whole stack. Now he's sitting there, already finished with his omelette, looking amused by how she scarfs them down.

"How do you keep that body, with how much you eat?"

"If I tell you that… I'd have to kill you," she jokes. "Exercise. Also, I'm very bad at actually eating sometimes. Some days at work I just forget, and then I get home and wonder why my stomach hurts so much."

He chuckles at her, reading her face. She seems guarded, closed off. It might not be visible to someone on the outside, but from someone who has spent years sitting next to her in a patrol car, he can't help noticing she's changed.

He makes a mental note on making sure she eats from time to time, mostly because he's never gotten rid of the need to take care of her, and also because he just can't have his partner fainting from starvation.

"I don't think it's going to be a problem in this unit. With all those guys that are hungry 110% of the time."

"It's a great unit. I wish my old one had the same dynamics."

"Did something happen with your old unit?"

She hesitates. Her eyes dig into the one pancake she has left on the plate. It doesn't seem like she has any intention of eating it, but she looks at it like it's the most interesting thing in the world. Just as she opens her mouth to reply to his question, their phone ring simultaneously.

"We've got a case," he says, asking for check, while she gathers her stuff and they head to work. But he can't stop thinking about what she was going to tell him before the phone rang.

And she can't stop thinking if it was a good thing that the phone stopped her from potentially saying something she might have regretted.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: As a thank you for all your words of kindness and support, here is chapter 3. I hope you're enjoying this story, and please just know that I love nothing more than to read your reactions. And if anyone doubts it, please know you guys are my most powerful muse, and I truly appreciate all of you.**

 **Thank you quesera1 for editing and always supporting honest opinions and moral support! (If you haven't read it yet, please do check out her fic Home!)**

* * *

"Your former partner hates me," she murmurs.

"She doesn't hate you. She's just pissed because you stole her partner," he tries to explain. "I mean imagine if someone took me away from you. Wouldn't you be heartbroken?"

Erin pretends to think about it, and he mock-punches her shoulder. "Okay, I'll try to put myself in her shoes. But it wasn't even my decision. It was Hank's." Though she has nothing against that decision—she wholeheartedly supports it. It has been nice having her old partner back.

"She'll get around. She just needs some time to warm up to people. She's not quick to trust. It took me a while too."

That sentence has the potential to make her feel better about this, and she is just about to make a quip about Claire being half in love with him, but as they reach the bullpen, the tension in the air is tangible. It's a bad case. But then again, which one isn't?

Seeing as they're all there, Antonio presents the facts of the case. "Grace Monroe, 24. She was found wandering around the park, wearing barely anything. MO and her story matches the case from two weeks ago—Beth Collins. Both girls were out for exercise, then drugged and raped. The first victim doesn't remember anything, so maybe we'll have more luck with Grace."

"DNA?" Erin asks the obvious question.

"None with victim n. 1. We're still waiting for the results of rape kit on Grace."

"Alright," Voight starts with his gravelly voice, causing for entire unit to turn to him. "Ruzek and Atwater, you go check out the scene of the crime, see if they missed anything. Halstead and Lindsay, go to the hospital, talk to the victim and wait for the results of the rape kit. Roberts and Olinsky go talk to the first victim. Burgess you come with me."

* * *

The ride to the hospital is mostly silent. Erin tethers herself to the steering wheel, trying not to let herself be affected by the pictures on the board, but some cases are just too tough to stay indifferent.

"Will, hey," Jay greets the redhead doctor they run into. Erin vaguely remembers him from having drinks once when he was in town. She smiles and nods, but he pulls her into a hug.

It's just another reminder of how close Erin and Jay used to be. He was her first partner—the person she learned from, trusted and most of all cared about. Well, cares about still. She met his family, and he frequently came over for dinner, munching on the homecooked meals whenever he could. They were so close, they were almost family.

But not quite.

They continue down the hall, and everyone seems to know Jay, so it takes them a while to get to where they're headed.

"Nat, hi!"

"Hey, there, stranger. Haven't seen you since the Blackhawks game."

He grins back, obviously close to the gorgeous female doctor. Erin takes her in—the silky brunette hair, the wide smile, the kind eyes. It's exactly his type. But if he was dating someone, surely he would have mentioned it?

"Erin, this is Natalie. Natalie, this is my new partner, Erin."

They exchange pleasantries, before focusing on the case. Jay clears his throat as they stand in front of the victim's room. "I think you should take the lead."

"What? Why?"

"She's just been raped, and I'm a man. She'll feel more comfortable talking to you."

"Yeah, you're right." His attention to details would make her swoon if she were one of those girls, but she's not. She steps into the room, her heart breaking for each bruise—visible and invisible—this girl has had to endure. But as a detective, she has to put her own feelings aside and ask this girl some tough questions. It isn't always easy—the job, everything that comes with it.

But if she can see her face when they catch him, and help erase some of the fear, then the long hours and the painful questions will have been worth it.

So she sets to work, wearing a soft expression as she pulls up a chair. A fighter, she thinks, looking into her eyes. Takes one to know one.

"Grace, we're with the police. This is Detective Halstead, I'm Detective Lindsay. We're really sorry that this happened to you." She feels Jay shift behind her uncomfortably. "Do you mind if we ask you a couple of questions?"

Grace shakes her head, tears streaming down her face. "Is it true that this happened to somebody else?"

"We think so, yes. Can you remember anything? You were out for a run?"

"Yeah."

"Do you always take the same route?"

"Yeah. I found one that I really like. It goes through the park and runs alongside the Riverwalk for a while, then back to my apartment."

"What's the last thing you remember?"

She closes her eyes, and Erin knows she's going back in her mind. Back to the moment when everything was still okay.

"I was jogging. I slowed down to change a song. Somebody bumped into me. They apologized. I kept running. That's the last thing I remember."

"Jay could you step outside for a moment?"

Her partner doesn't question it, just nods and leaves the room. Erin follows a couple of minutes later, finding her partner leaning against the wall, focusing on his phone. She has a moment to observe him, before he notices that she's joined him and puts the phone away, raising his brows curiously.

"That's how he drugged her. He injected her while bumping into her. There is a small penetration mark on her skin, barely visible."

"Did she say she could describe the person who bumped into her? Should we send in a sketch artist?"

Erin shakes her head. "No. It was too fast, and she just kept running. But she did say it was a Caucasian male, possibly blond."

"Well it's something."

"I promised her we'd get him."

He knows these cases affect everyone, but having worked with quite a few female police officers, he knows it can haunt them until they apprehend the guy. That's the look present in Erin's eyes now. He wishes they lived in a world where women didn't have to be afraid every time they left their place, but they don't.

"We'll get him."

She only nods, trailing back to the car in silence.

* * *

"I brought beer," she yells across the hallway after opening the door. Camille rushes out to greet her with a smile, wiping her hands against the pale blue apron.

"Oh, you came. I don't see enough of you these days."

Finding herself in a mama bear hug, Erin laughs, and hugs her back. "Think you made enough for one more?"

"Always. Did you bring a boy home? Or a girl? I keep telling Hank that one of these days you'll bring someone."

"Easy, this one you already know." She pulls Jay inside by grabbing his henley, almost regretting her decision when she feels the taut muscles underneath her fingers. Camille gushes over how much he's changed, and Erin trails on inside in search of Hank, leaving her partner in good hands.

She finds him grilling out back, taking advantage of one of the last warm autumn days. Winter is inevitably approaching, and the chill at night is getting worse, as they're late into November. He gives her his best attempt at a smile as a form of greeting, and gratefully accepts the bottle of beer she passes on.

"I brought Jay over for dinner," she tells him, knowing that the real reason she left Jay with Camille, was because she feels like she owes Hank a warning, or an explanation—or possibly both. She shivers, unsure if it's because of the cold or his reaction.

"Something going on with you two?"

"He's a friend. And I need one right now, so back off?"

It's the closest she has come to telling him that her move back wasn't simply a career choice. His face grows somber, and so does hers.

"You know. About New York." It isn't a question, but a statement. She can tell.

"Of course, I know," he responds, his voice gravelly. "Been waiting for you to tell us. Don't know why you think you need to deal with everything alone. We're your family."

"Does Camille know?"

Relief washes over her when he shakes his head.

"I'll tell her. I just need to figure out how."

He stares at her. For not being his biological daughter, she is surprisingly similar to him. She inherited his quiet nature, his unwillingness to discuss personal problems and to lean on somebody in times of trouble. They're both used to dealing with things alone, which is the only reason he's not angry about her not confiding in them.

Pulling her into his arms, he sighs. "Even grown up, you're still my girl, you know. "Love you, kiddo. No matter what. So does Camille."

Her face softens. "Love you too. Now let's go feed those two inside."

* * *

Winter is pressing down on them hard—the heavy snowfall doesn't show signs of stopping. Chicago winters are something she grew up with, and she's glad she doesn't have to keep spending them in that hole of an apartment with no money for heat. She's come a long way from that.

But even winter cannot press on her chest now that she has gotten some things off of it. It's time for a new start.

Pulling on her patrol uniform, she glances out the window, wondering why on earth she volunteered for this. She was probably thinking about overtime when she said yes to Platt. Or maybe it was the fact that she seemed to be in need of it.

The snow is still falling, thick and heavy from the sky, but that doesn't stop hundreds of people from going outside to celebrate the beginning of a new year. Erin never truly got the appeal, but this year it does seem symbolic.

She reports for duty, grinning when realizing who her partner in crime (or, well, fighting crime) is. "How did you get roped into this?"

"Shush, I'm trying to win favour with Platt. Don't tell her," Jay whispers back.

"My lips are sealed. Shall we?"

They head to the patrol car, and she passes him the keys. "My gift to you. For one night only."

"I can drive?" His eyes gleam with excitement of a five-year-old boy just given a new toy. She suddenly feels bad. Just a little, and it doesn't last long, but still. "How come you're not celebrating at home, or at some party?" He asks when he's settled behind the wheel, and she's sipping on hot coffee.

"I'm not much for parties, and I honestly think Hank and Camille prefer to be alone on New Year's. I spent Christmas there though. Justin came with Olive and Danny. It was really fun. How about you?"

"Oh so that's where you were," he murmurs. "I stopped by, but you weren't home, so I left your present with your neighbour. Please tell me she gave it to you and didn't eat it."

Erin bursts out laughing at that. "She did. She had some interesting things to say about you. I have no idea what you did to the woman, but she was half in love. Anyway, thank you for my present. It was delicious."

The fact he remembered her favourite brand of chocolates was the best gift of all.

"I'm glad to hear that. And I don't know what you mean, it's all my natural charm."

The continue their flirty banter all through the night, while stopping some drunken fights from happening and helping the people who need it. It's cold, it's snowy, and people are fed up with the winter, so there are some crazies out there. But Erin finds it nice for a change—to have a case she can wrap up immediately. Their rape case still isn't solved, and they have a new one open, with no new leads. It almost seems like they are in a rut.

They're just returning to their patrol car from the last call, when Jay glances at the time.

"Almost midnight," he whispers and looks at her intently. The moment is impossible to miss, as cheers surround them from all sides. "Happy New Year."

She knows it's coming. She knows it's coming and she can't—won't—stop it. So when his lips land on hers, soft and gentle, she doesn't stop him. Her body melts into his, and her arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer. There are literal fireworks exploding everywhere around them, but all Erin can hear is silence. The silence that numbs out the unpleasant noise of life. The kind of silence that comes with peace.

They both pull back at the same time, their expressions mirroring each other's.

"Happy New Year," she murmurs back, breaking the slightly awkward silence afterwards.

She still has no idea what this is, or where it's going, but at least this time she can't doubt that that was a kiss. And it leaves behind a feeling that this year already started off better than the year before.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: So sorry about the long wait! I want to thank you all for the lovely reviews. I want you to know they make all the difference, so keep leaving them okay? Okay.**

 **Huge thanks to my beta quesera1! She's the best human and I love her.**

 **Now, without further ado, here's the chapter! Enjoy!**

* * *

The weeks breeze by as they focus on solving one crime after another. Erin's social life is practically non-existent—something Jay is not happy about. They have barely had a chance to talk since New Year's—but case after case keeps them busy all the time, so when they go home, they go to sleep. They have no other choice but to push their _relationship_ onto the backburner, at least for however long the case streak lasts.

But when peace finally comes, Erin worries that it something is coming, and she is not wrong.

* * *

She should have known it would involve crying. When she comes home for a "girls night" with Camille with the intention of telling her about New York, she should have known. But it goes surprisingly well, aside from the tears they both shed in buckets.

They end up watching old movies and talking almost the entire night. It's a tradition they started when Erin was a teenager and it is still their favourite way to spend time together. Somehow, life seems easier in black and white, even when Humphrey and Ingrid part at the airport with the famous words _We'll always have Paris._

"I'm so happy you took the time."

Feeling warm and safe, cuddled up on the couch with the only mother she ever knew, she agrees. "I'll always find time for you."

"And how is Jay?"

Camille tries, really tries to make that question sound casual, but fails so badly, which is why Erin ends up chuckling in reply.

"He's fine. We haven't really seen each other much, outside of work."

"Are you afraid it will cause problems at work if you go for it?"

It's Camille's words that really cause Erin to think long and hard about, why she has been so reluctant to get closer to Jay. The truth is, she is running out of excuses—and willpower as well.

The truth is, she is afraid of what might happen if she lets herself fall.

* * *

"Hey, you're not a Yankees fan, are you?"

Erin shoots him a glare that makes him want to run for his life. He has seen that glare before, and he knows exactly who she got it from. "Never," she replies, "why?"

"Oh, just got these sweet, sweet tickets for a Cubs game …" He places them on the desk, watching her eyes widen, following by a smile. "I wouldn't want to waste them on a Yankees fan."

"You're one to talk. Aren't you a White Sox fan?"

"Yes, I'm so glad you brought that up. If it were Cubs against White Sox, the choice is obvious. But, it's Chicago playing, so … you in? It's the first time since New Year's that we aren't slammed with cases."

"I don't know. This seems like a wicked pretence of getting me on a date."

"I would never." He feigns innocence, but his eyes do sparkle a little at the word date. She knows she is being unfair, because they haven't even talked much since New Year's, much less had the opportunity to pursue whatever there is lingering between them.

"I can always give them to Ruzek," he suggests, and she quickly snaps the second ticket off the desk.

"But I'm a much better date than he is."

"I'll pick you up."

* * *

As they arrive at the stadium, he can finally take all of her in. She looks very casual in a Cubs jersey underneath a jean jacket. It's unusually warm for March, but the wind can still be chilly. He fights the urge to hold her hand, and instead pushes them into his jacket.

Erin throws nervous glances at her buzzing phone.

"You can take it. I don't mind."

But she shakes her head almost angrily and shoves the phone into her pocket.

"I needed this." He can see she's changing the topic, but if she doesn't want to talk about the mysterious caller, he's not going to push. "To just get away. This case is killing me," she admits. "So, thanks."

"You're welcome. I'd much rather look at you than at Ruzek."

"Ha-ha. Oh, isn't that your friend from the hospital?"

Jay looks around, and realizes Erin is right, it is Natalie. "Yeah, that's her."

"You two seem pretty close."

"Yeah, she's awesome. And her son is the best," he comments, observing the dynamic between mother and son.

"Do you want to go say hi?"

That's the moment when Natalie spots them and waves, so they really have no other choice but to make it through the crowd to greet her. Natalie smiles warmly at Jay, but her reaction is nothing compared to her son's, who apparently worships Jay and the floor he walks on.

"Erin, it's so good to see you. I sleep better at night, knowing you're looking after Jay out there."

"You know, that's not exactly accurate," Jay jumps in. "We look after each other."

"Sure, you do," Natalie agrees in a way that makes it obvious that she doesn't in fact agree. She laughs, and Erin joins in, even though she doesn't exactly feel like laughing. The relationship between Jay and Natalie is still a mystery to Erin, and though she doesn't think Jay would have kissed her if he was dating someone, there is definitely something there—something she might have to ask him about at some point.

She steals a glance at Jay and is surprised to find out he is returning it. When their eyes meet, her cheeks flush softly, which is completely out of character for her. Her gaze drops to the floor.

She is saved by the bell, or in this case, Jay's phone ringing. _Please don't be a case,_ she thinks to herself, crossing fingers in her mind. She needs some fun, but as always, the job doesn't take breaks.

"It's Voight," Jay mouths, before taking the call. "Yeah? Okay, I'll be right there. Okay."

"We got a case?" She asks, even though she already knows the answer.

"Another jogger," Jay confirms. Erin sighs, and waves goodbye to Owen and Natalie. Natalie looks at them with pity, but they all know that if her pager beeped, they would be heading to the hospital too.

"Erin …" He waits for them to get into the car, before explaining more about the case.

"What?"

"This one didn't make it."

Which means that their case just went from a series of rapes to murder.

"I hate that we haven't gotten him yet." Her voice shakes a little, even though she does her best to cover it up. Her reputation is something she would like to hold on to, even though she doubts it's in any danger with him.

"Well, he stopped during the winter. No new leads. There was nothing we could do."

Even though he knows Erin tried anyway. Countless times during the winter, he came in early to find she never went home. It came to a point where Voight had to give her an involuntary day off so she got some necessary rest.

"I've got a theory about that too," she murmurs. "Cold and ice. I love running, but there is nothing that can make me go out there with temperatures below twenty."

"Which means he does it out of convenience?"

"Could be. Except I found three rapes that happened in near proximities of gyms. We didn't make the connection before, but maybe …"

"He has a type," Jay finishes for her, causing her to nod.

"And I've got a plan."

* * *

They arrive to the bullpen, and everyone else is already there. It's clear this interrupted everybody's plans. Voight throws them a funny look, before grunting that they should let him know when Al gets there. Al then promptly shows up from behind something, and as that means the unit is complete, they can begin.

Burgess takes them through the latest victim. "Again, we've got nothing, no DNA, but the same puncture wounds. We still can't find the manufacturer, but I have threatened some people, so hopefully we'll get something soon. We tried tracing him through the drugs he uses, but it's the most common cocktail out there."

"Erin's found two reported rapes that happened near a gym, and one attempt. Looks like this guy hasn't been sleeping during the winter like we originally thought."

"But how do we catch him? This guy is careful."

"We give him a target." All eyes turn to Erin after those words. "Undercover."

"I think it's a good idea. We'll find somebody …"

She cuts Voight off before anyone can say another word. "I'll do it. We need to put a stop to this."

Voight only nods, his eyes not giving away the battle Erin knows is happening inside of him. For all intents and purposes—in every way that matters—he is her father. And she can't imagine what it feels like to have to send your kid off to face a danger like that. But then again, she signed up for this the day they pinned the badge on her chest.

* * *

"Are you sure about this?" Jay asks for the tenth time, watching her nod. "Nobody will blame you if you change your mind."

"It's just another undercover assignment," she reassures him. "I'll be fine. Besides, I know you'll have my back." She's already dressed, so she pulls her hair into a high pony tail and add a sports headband. "How do I look?"

He swallows the word _hot_ and gives her a thumbs-up. "This reminds me of the time you helped out with that Serbian mob case and uncovered a mass white crime organization."

"God, I'm a badass."

"Yeah, you are. But also, be smart. Please?"

"Don't worry," she tells him, obviously uncomfortable with how worried he is. It helps her to try and put herself into his shoes, which isn't hard to do, because she has been in his shoes before.

"That's kind of impossible," he replies, pulling her against him for a hug.

* * *

With the case at a standstill, they are both in need of some relaxation, so when he invites her over to watch the game that wasn't meant to be, she willingly shows up with Thai take-out from his favourite place.

She is acutely aware of her surroundings. The recording of the Cubs game they missed on the tv, the chilly March air coming in through the open window, and especially Jay's body next to hers on the couch.

Jay is seemingly focused on the game, so she gets a chance to observe him unnoticed. He's handsome—that much has always been clear to her, but the last time she got to watch him like this he was younger. His face seems more mature now, his jaw more defined, his eyes darker from everything he's seen on the job. But there is still something—a spark—that makes Erin drawn to him and goes beyond the looks.

 _Oh god, I'm in love with him._

And how could she not be. He's patient, good at his job, compassionate and passionate. He's funny—his weird sense of humour never fails to make her smile. He's kind, loyal to a fault, and apparently good with kids, she thinks, remembering his with Natalie's son. It's not wonder she's fallen for him long and hard.

"I need to ask you something," she blurts out, taking him by surprise. He nods, encouraging her to continue. "Do you have something going on with Natalie?"

The brief pause he makes before answering the question tells her that there is something there. She didn't become a detective for nothing. But of course, she never expected anything but the truth from him, or she wouldn't have asked.

"There was something—briefly. But the timing was off, and it was complicated. We stayed friends though. I like hanging out with Owen."

"But there is nothing more?"

He shakes his head, genuinely curious why she's asking about it. Maybe it's that, or the fact that she can always count on him to tell her the truth that prompts her to reach over and crush her lips against his. He responds right away, by cupping her jaw with his hand, deepening the kiss.

She lets out a breathy moan, that startles her out of her hot-headed reverie. The hand she places on his chest to maintain distance is a clear sign to Jay, and he pulls back, confused but smiling.

"Were you jealous?" He asks, because he can't think of anything else to say. She doesn't respond to that.

"I should go," she murmurs, "we've got work so early in the morning and I need to get some sleep." They have been out there in the park every morning so far, with no luck.

Jay nods, accompanying her to the door.

Right before she leaves, she turns back. "I was a little jealous. Maybe. Possibly."

His lips spread into a gorgeous smile illuminating his whole face. "Good to know. Night, Erin."

"Night, Jay."

* * *

The perp doesn't show up the first couple mornings, and if nothing else, at least Erin is getting her exercise in, and Adam has something to complain about (waking up early, and Erin panting into the mic).

But on the fourth morning, when the weather is especially chilly, and the area is all but abandoned at this early hour, there is another runner coming in the opposite direction. Erin maintains her path and feels his body crush into hers. If she didn't know it was coming, she wouldn't have felt the small ping of a needle, since her whole body was still recovering from the crush.

"I'm so sorry, I tripped over my feet. Here, let me help you." He takes her further into the woody part of a park, leaning her onto a tree.

Her whole body turns with revulsion and anger, and in that moment, if she could move, she would have gotten a good punch in. But the drugs are kicking in too fast, and she finds herself weak and disoriented.

 _Where are you guys?_


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hey guys! I'm so sorry the updates have been few and long in between, but I've been getting used to working and it's been not fun. But I think I'm getting less tired and more inspired every day, so hopefully I'll be able to write more.  
**

 **Now this chapter is very important to me. I would certainly appreciate feedback. This storyline is more personal to me than you can imagine, so I hope to do a good job writing it.**

 **As always, huge thanks to my beta quesera1 3 I hope she gets back to writing soon, because I miss it (hint hint). Also thanks to justkillingtimewhileiwait for helping me with some ideas.**

* * *

Laughter. That bastard is laughing at her feeble attempts at fighting off the hands that are groping her body, trying to rid her of her workout clothes. Slowly losing consciousness is the worst feeling in the world, because she's essentially helpless and there is nothing she can do to stop him. And even worse, she was stupid enough to put herself in that situation.

Her body loses energy and with it, the last fight she had. The last words she hears before slipping into the darkness belong to Jay, easing the horror setting in her bones.

" _Get your hands off of her."_

Then her body crumbles to the floor.

* * *

"She should come to in a couple of minutes. She'll probably be a bit disoriented, but she's otherwise unharmed."

There are hard footsteps echoing around the room—likely Hank's. Two other people are in the room, and she recognizes one of the voices as Will's. She doesn't have to wait long to find out who the third person is.

She would recognize Jay's hand anywhere. And even though she really doesn't want to be touched right now, his hand covering hers feels comforting. Her eyelids flutter open, and she takes both men in. She opens her eyes just in time to see Will walking away, since his red hair is impossible to miss.

"What took you so long?" She asks, half-jokingly. She finally has the time to take in herself and her surroundings. Lying on top of a hospital bed, she's still wearing her workout leggings, but her sports bra is covered by a cotton shirt she wasn't wearing before. Her head is spinning, but at least she can move again. She is able to regain the control that was so terrifying to lose.

Jay's bloody knuckles are the next thing getting her attention. Voight is sending dirty looks into Jay's direction, and it doesn't take her long before she figures it out.

"Did you get into a fight or something?"

"Punched a wall," Jay replies, but she bets that if she could see the guy, his face would match Jay's hands. For some reason, that thought makes her happier than it probably should.

"Did you get him?" She's afraid to find out the answer to that question, but she needs to know anyway. Hoping that she's not being too obvious, she pushes her fingernails into her palms so hard that it almost pierces skin.

"We got him," Voight assures. "He confessed to Antonio after being interrogated."

Erin scoots up to sit. Her head is still spinning, but otherwise she feels fine—physically at least.

"How long was I out? When can I leave?"

"You were unconscious for about six hours. Dr. Halstead is signing your discharge papers, and you can leave when you feel better."

 _Six hours._ Erin paled, her expression hardened when she began thinking what could have happened if her team didn't get to her in time. She tries to focus on other things, like how odd it feels to call Will Dr. Halstead. Odd, because of how close she feels to Jay. Back when they were both beat cops and Jay's mom was still alive, she would come over for dinner all the time.

"I can't wait to get out of here."

Especially because she sees Hank's worried eyes and Jay's sympathetic glances, and she just needs to get away. It feels like they're suffocating her, and she just wants to be alone. Taking the first chance she gets, she skips the hospital when they're talking to the doctors, walking back to her place, since she doesn't have her wallet with her. It feels good to move—to clear her head—and the exercise helps the drugs get out of her system faster.

Luckily, she gave a copy of her key to her nice elderly neighbour in case of emergency, so she's not locked out of her apartment now. As she enters her safe space, she exhales loudly, hoping that the act itself will make her feel better. She makes a straight line for the shower, noticing that the shirt she vaguely noticed before definitely belongs to Jay.

Thinking about Jay putting his shirt on her, so she wasn't exposed, makes her feel an ounce better, but she still rubs the skin furiously to erase the foreign touch she can still feel. It was too close a call, she realizes.

Like a mantra, she repeats the three words—the only words that matter right now.

 _We got him._

Then she finally allows herself to break.

* * *

"Halstead."

Jay's attention snaps to Voight, interrupting his train of thought about why Erin left so suddenly. He can't help but feel worried. It doesn't seem at all unrealistic that how everything went down in the park would affect her more than she led on.

He's not even immune to it—his blood boiling every time he remembers the scene. Erin, passed out, the only reason she's still standing upright is because she's leaning against a tree; the perp trying to strip her, and almost succeeding; her ripped shirt and desperate whimpers filled with terror.

There is no doubt in Jay's mind that he would have killed him if Voight hadn't stopped him. Glancing down at his knuckles, he's glad that he threw those punches, and he hopes that it doesn't ruin the chances of conviction.

"Let it go. You have to give her time to process everything."

"I wasn't going to do anything." But he was. He was _this_ close to going to her apartment.

"Go home. You've done enough today."

Jay nods, knowing that Voight's anger is completely justified, though admittedly, Voight has done much worse. It could compromise the entire case, and he hates himself for that, but when he saw Erin in that position his vision went red. He presses his lips together, his jaw tight, as he places Erin's phone onto her desk, along with the other stuff she left in the surveillance van.

The screen lights up, and though he would never consider reading someone's texts on purpose, his eyes are just turned in that direction and he doesn't glance away fast enough.

 **David: You can't keep avoiding me forever.**

It's enough for Jay to keep wondering who David is, and why Erin is avoiding him.

* * *

When Erin comes back to the precinct that day, everyone has mostly gone home. Platt smiles at her warmly as she struts up the stairs, and she feels a bit more normal than before. Her things, along with her phone, are on her desk, so she doesn't have to search long.

Her forehead creases as she reads her texts. There are the normal bunch, but also the worried texts from Jay and Hank.

 **V: Don't want to pry, but if you need anything, call me.**

 **J: I know you left your phone at work, but when you see this please let me know you're alright.**

 **J: Also if you need anything call me.**

There are also five missed calls from Jay, who was apparently trying her phone every half hour. Against her will, her mouth curves into a smile. Not big, not nearly as radiant as they usually are, but it's enough to change how she feels.

She grabs her keys and gets on her way.

* * *

"Hey," he murmurs as a hello, and leans back, letting her into his apartment. He knows she's here because of how she left in a hurry, and probably because of the five missed calls and messages. He exhales with relief, knowing that she's okay, and that Voight was right. She just needed time.

"I'm sorry. The last thing I wanted was to worry you," she offers when she sees the lines of worry all over his face.

She finds out, with some surprise, that being there doesn't make her in the slightest uncomfortable. Walking to the fridge, he finds a beer and opens it.

"You okay?" He finally asks after taking a gulp.

"Yeah. It's just some of the past has come back to haunt me," she admits, and he nods. He can understand that better than she thinks. He wonders if David has anything to do with it, but swallows the jealousy, because he doesn't want to be _that guy._

"Listen, Erin. I know you know I'm here for you. I'm not gonna push you to talk about it, you'll tell me when you're ready. But I am here. And I don't care what you did, or what happened to you. Nothing you tell me is going to make me see you in a different light."

And that's the final push she needs. She just can't keep it in any longer. It's Jay. Jay—her partner—who has always been here for her, offering silent, selfless support. It's the man she has realized she was in love with not too long ago. So what's keeping her from telling the truth?

"I was raped," she blurts out, ripping the band aid off. The silence, and the completely unsurprised expression on his face tells her he knew—or at the very least suspected. He nods, looking at her with his heart breaking, but letting her continue. "I was in a bar with my friends, having a drink after work. It's when I let my guard down, you know? Just relax with the guys, and the few girls. The bar was full of off-duty cops. I thought I was in a safe place. But I guess nobody was paying attention, because somebody slipped something in my drink. I don't remember much, but I remember his laugh towards the end. And how he left me there in the alley." She takes the beer bottle from him and empties it in two large chugs.

She's standing next to him now, looking up, almost as if she has to, to prove to herself that she can say it with her head held high. He has worked with rape victims before, and he knows what it can do to a person, and his heart breaks because she has to go through that, but there is the strength seeping through the cracks that makes him realize she is anything but broken.

"I'm so sorry this happened to you," he tells her, not sure how to make her realize how strong she is. How to let her know he doesn't care, that all he wants to do is make this better for her. "Is he still out there?"

She nods her head. "I went in for a rape kit, they found some DNA, but it wasn't in the database. At first, I didn't want to, but I couldn't let him do this to somebody else. Ironically, they have no leads. It's one of those cases that will probably end up cold."

"Damn system."

She nods. "I didn't really feel safe working there anymore. I mean I know it wasn't my fault, because I didn't drug myself, but I still feel stupid for trusting them enough to leave my drink unattended. For trusting someone that wasn't me. For being so naïve. I got stupid for a second, and I paid the price."

"No, you can't blame yourself. Not even for a second. You were with your co-workers, you thought you were in a safe place. We did that all the time back when we worked together, and you better believe that if somebody slipped something into your drink while you were gone, we would've known." The guys used to watch the ladies' drinks like hawks if they left them for a second. It was an unwritten rule. As first responders they knew better than anyone how easy something like this can happen.

"That's not all of it," she admits. If she told him this much, he should know the rest as well. "My boyfriend, he sort of couldn't deal with it. After it happened, the first time we tried to, _you know_ , I ended up throwing up in the bathroom. When I got out he was pretending to be asleep. He acted like I was a burden all of a sudden, like he didn't sign up for this. He said he needed a break. That's why I came back to Chicago. I needed family."

Jay clenches his fist. This guy left her when she was at her weakest, when she was the most vulnerable. He took a traumatic experience she went through and made it even worse by not being there for her. There is a special circle of hell reserved for guys like that.

He notices her glancing down at his hand, and he relaxes it, holding it out for her instead. She looks at him, her eyes only now filling with tears, after staying calm the entire time she was talking. When she takes his hand, he tugs at it slightly, making sure she has a chance to stop him, before her pulls her into a hug. But she snuggles against his chest, allowing him to stroke her hair softly.

"I don't even know what to say. What you went through is horrible, but it's not your fault. Never forget that. And what your boyfriend did is despicable, but he's an idiot. You're not a burden, and you're not unworthy of love, and you deserve someone who will stick by you through thick and thin. And you are so, so brave."

She weeps against him, his strong arms holding her up like she's made of paper. But the heaviness sitting on top of her chest is gone and she can finally breathe again after holding her breath for so long.

She can finally exhale.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I'm posting this now, and I will update 50tl in the following couple of days (soon promise!). I do appreciate all the love you've been sending, even though I haven't updated that in a while.  
**

 **Huge thanks to my beta and emotional support quesera1. She is literally the best human ever.**

 **I would also like to thank everyone who reviews and comments and gets excited about this story. Thank you.**

* * *

When she wakes up hours later, she is in a bed. It is not her bed—that much she knows—but she is in it alone, still wearing her clothes from earlier, tucked under a comfortable warm blanket. For some reason, she feels safe. After blinking a couple of times, she recognizes Jay's bedroom—after all she woke up in this bed once before. Warmth fills her when she thinks of Jay carrying her to his bed and tucking her in after the exhaustion kicked in.

It all comes back to her now, down to every last sob. The heaviness pressing on her chest is gone because she finally told Jay. Everyone important in her life knows now—Hank, Camille and Jay. She didn't exactly think everything through. Telling Jay was spontaneous and unplanned. It was almost as if she couldn't take another second of him staring at her with his compassionate eyes, telling her he doesn't care what happened.

She was not expecting to feel so different after telling him. She didn't expect to feel so free.

Sauntering to the living room, she finds him sleeping on the couch. The black spots on his shirt where her mascara landed make her smile. He looks so beautiful, so handsome like this. Unguarded. It doesn't take long for his eyes to flutter open, as if he knew she was watching him sleep.

"You're awake," he observes in a sleep-laced voice that she loves so much. She remembers the first time she realized she was in love with her partner. It was after a night out, when he crashed on her couch, and greeted her with that same sleepy voice in the morning. Her heart swelled with love then, and it does again now.

She nods in response to his statement, waiting for him to make space on the couch, before joining him. "You didn't have to give up your bed for me." But she does appreciate it, and the pleasant tingling in her stomach when their arms accidentally brush.

"I know, but you needed sleep more than I did. You looked exhausted."

 _You have no idea._ Keeping secrets from everyone was exhausting, and she is glad she doesn't have to do it anymore.

"You didn't have to take the couch," she repeats.

He nods at that and lets her lean on his shoulder. "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. When we get in bed together it'll be because you want to." Her eyes fill with tears. "I'm glad you told me. I know it's not an easy burden to bear."

"I'm glad I told you too. And did you just say _when_?"

He chuckles, pressing a kiss on her forehead, before reaching for the remote to find them something to watch, feeling like a winner when she visibly relaxes and cuddles against his chest.

* * *

"Are you two dating?"

It's worth mentioning that Erin was never one for the company of girls. She spent her entire life surrounded by boys, and that suited her just fine. But having found a girlfriend in Kim is nice. She can't exactly talk to Hank about boys. The thought itself makes her suppress a giggle, before returning her attention to Kim's question.

"We're seeing where it goes."

The truth is she doesn't know. Because they don't talk about it. Instead, they talk about everything else. And the simple act of talking to each other makes Erin fall for him all over again (if she was ever over him in the first place). But really, the only word she can think of to describe what they're doing is dating, and it makes her heart flutter with joy.

Relaxing and kicking back, she then listens to Kim ramble about how hot Ruzek is, but how she doesn't want to compromise her career for a guy. They watch chick flicks and eat popcorn. It's nice to feel normal again. She finally gets why everyone is hyping girls nights so much.

Afterwards, she doesn't drive home, instead making a quick stop at Jay's. Sitting in a car for what feels like the longest fifteen minutes of her life, she wonders if he's home, and if she should go up and say hi. She hasn't been by his place often, always preferring home turf, except lately.

Walking up the stairs to his apartment, she kicks herself for being weird about it. It brings back the memories of the last time—before she left—when he basically carried her up, then slammed her against the door before they even managed to get inside. The memory of his body against hers is all too vivid, and to her amazement, it does not fill her with any kind of discomfort.

Her mind drifts back to _that night_. She took the job offer in New York the next day, and she still regrets it. She regrets telling him the way she did, one day after the incredible night they spent together. She regrets fleeing from her feelings—the feelings she knew she had for him back then. The feelings that are still there as she knocks on his door.

"Hey," she murmurs in greeting when he swings his door open, looking drowsy and oddly adorable. "Oh god, I woke you up. I'm so sorry."

He grins at that, pulling her inside. He leans her against the wall, brushing his lips over hers softly. "You can wake me any time." She draws back, afraid that he's come to the wrong conclusion about why she's here, but she relaxes when he continues walking to the fridge, pulling out two soda cans.

"I don't really know what I'm doing here," she admits, causing Jay to raise his brows at her.

"Maybe you just wanted some quality company. I've been told I'm supreme."

She rolls her eyes but follows him to the couch. Despite his cocky word choice, he isn't that far off. Perhaps that is why she didn't just drive home, and instead pulled into his parking lot. Who is she fooling? She is head over heels in love with this man and she knows it.

"I was thinking about what happened before I left."

"Ah."

"Jay, I'm sorry. I was scared. I had never felt the way I felt about you. I was thinking about my career, and how I wanted to get ahead in life. You know that was very important to me. I panicked. I took that job in New York to get away from what I felt for you. I have regretted it every single day."

"Every day, huh?"

She nods earnestly.

"The truth is," he starts before taking a short pause to collect his thoughts, "that I wasn't ready either. I understand why you left. I understand, because when I found out you were gone I was devastated, but a part of me was also relieved."

"Maybe our timing was just off?" She wants to believe that maybe they get another try at this.

"That's one way to put it." He chuckles, realizing she's close enough that the familiar scent of her perfume can penetrate his nostrils, invading his senses. Her scent was the second thing he fell in love with, right after her dimples.

"I was driving at Kim's today. She asked me if we were dating. Everyone is asking me what's going on between us, and it bothers me that I don't know the answer."

He smiles, because the Erin he knows doesn't give a rat's ass about what anybody thinks, so he knows that she's not asking because _they_ want to know. She's asking because _she_ wants to know—maybe even needs to know how to define it.

"I believe in second chances," he replies and hopes she understands what he means. This isn't about him giving her a second chance. It's about them giving it to each other, giving in to these feelings simmering on low between them.

Her answer is to lean in for another kiss, only this one goes deeper. One by one, he keeps crumbling down the walls she's put up. Persistently, yet without being pushy, he's penetrating her shield, and at this point, she doesn't even mind.

"Stay," he whispers as he pulls back, noticing her startled expression. He shakes his head. "No, not like this. Just stay here with me. Just to sleep. I want to wake up with you next to me."

He doesn't want to lose this moment. He knows it can't go on forever but wants to prolong it as much as he can. When she smiles at him, putting those dimples on display as she nods hesitantly, he considers it a win.

But when he wakes up in the morning, with her drowsy eyes gazing at him, it's not a win. It's heaven.

* * *

"So, Erin, it's been a while. What's new?"

"Yeah, it's been crazy with cases, so I didn't have the time. Well, I've sort of been seeing someone."

"That's great. Tell me about it."

Erin visibly relaxes into the couch, reminding herself that she's here to talk after all, and she shouldn't have problems talking about Jay. The woman sitting in the chair across from her is looking at her expectantly so she dives in.

It all comes out. How the case brought back unwanted memories, how she spilled everything to Jay, and how he took it so much better than her ex-boyfriend. Then she talks about David again, as she does in every session. It took her weeks after he dumped her to say the words—that she was angry with him. And it still feels liberating, especially because her anger seems justified.

Later that night, she dreams about it. It has been a long time since she has had one of these nightmares—the particularly bad ones, where she wakes up drenched in sweat, feeling like it happened all over again.

She takes a cold shower, knowing that she won't be getting any more sleep. She follows her morning routine, which helps to ease her mind a little. As she is sitting in her kitchen with a cup of steaming coffee, waiting for the sun to rise, her mind goes to unusual places.

Since that night—no, since she was raped, she corrects herself. She has been using ' _that night'_ or _'New York'_ to distance herself from what happened to her, but her shrink thinks that vocalizing it will help Erin deal with her emotions. Since she was raped, she has preferred solitude over company. Being around too many people made her antsy, and she pulled away from everyone, including her family.

But now, sitting here, sipping on her coffee, she almost wishes somebody else was there. She can't say she wasn't expecting this—Jay has always been extremely good at making her let him in. However, the level of comfort she feels around him comes with surprise and relief.

It might be good for her. It has the potential to push her out of her new comfort zone that has become almost non-existent lately. Thinking about that, she decides not to let her nightmare dictate her whole week, instead opting to look ahead.

* * *

"Thanks for picking me up," she mutters, while helplessly rushing around the apartment to get ready. "My car should be done today." Her optimism did her no favour. She is having an awful week, with some bad news received, and on top of everything, her car gave up on her the day before. Like her week needed to get any worse.

"No problem. Besides, I get free coffee and I get to see you, so it's a win for me."

She pauses, the corner of her lips quirking up against her will. Jay is right, as usual. They haven't had the time to see where their second chance might lead-partially because of the case, and partially because Erin has once again pulled away.

The anniversary of that day is throwing her off balance, and she wishes she felt more in control. It feels like it's slipping through her fingers, no matter how hard she works to maintain it.

There is also the subject of what usually comes next in a relationship. Not that Jay has pushed in any way to make it more physical. He has been a perfect gentleman, but the fact that she's dreading what's next is causing some tension. Possibly because she hasn't yet managed to communicate that to Jay.

But his reminder does not leave her unaffected, so she stops in the middle of her search for her keys and leans down to meet his lips halfway.

It's soft and gentle. It reminds her of a sunrise next to the ocean, when you're wrapped into a warm blanket feeling safe, feeling like everything is perfect in the world. She can almost feel the sun's rays on her skin and hear the waves in the distance. And when their lips finally touch, it feels exactly like that moment when the sun comes out.

Jay returns the smile after she pulls away, gently removing the hand that has sneaked on her lower back during the kiss.

"Something's wrong. Is it the testimony?" At some point while riding together, Erin caved and told Jay that they've called her as a witness in the rapist case, since she was the undercover detective. That was something she could tell him. This is something she doesn't know how to say.

"It's nothing."

"No don't give me that. I want to know."

She looks down stubbornly, but Jay hooks his finger beneath her chin and forces her to meet his gaze. And when she does, she doesn't stand a chance.

"I'm afraid I'm not good enough for you," she spits out so fast he needs to take a second to process it. "I'm afraid that you'll get tired of waiting for me. I'm afraid that you deserve better than damaged goods, and that you're just too nice to realize it."

He seems stunned to silence, so she takes a step back, but he takes one forward right away to close the distance again.

"That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"Jay, I—"

"No. Please tell me you know that you're not damaged goods because of what happened to you. You are still a person as worthy of love as anyone. More even. And I would never force you to move at a pace you're not comfortable with. And if I ever do, I hope you slap me long and hard for it."

The corners of her lips tug upward. "It's just, you've been so patient. And I feel like I'm not moving fast enough."

"Take all the time you need. I'm serious. This isn't a race." He looks into her eyes, forcing her to look back at him. She feels almost ashamed at his next words. "I'm not going anywhere."

The vocal promise makes her heart tremble. It takes only one look into those baby blues to know that he means every word. And as she snuggles into his chest for a moment longer, she wonders how she got so lucky to get him back into her life.

"Just don't give up on me, okay?"

"I won't."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hey there, remember me? I'm all fresh from vacation and had this baby written already, so I'm treating you to a little *insert peach emoji*Jay. You'll see what I mean *wink***

 **In the meantime, I would like to thank the best person ever, quesera1 for editing this, even though her time is all consumed by a perfect little baby boy. Yet she still finds time for me and my mistakes. *shouts into the void* I love you!**

* * *

Though the conversation with Jay leaves her a bit calmer, there is still something on her mind. It's not that she is depressed exactly, but she feels this weight pressing on her chest, and she has moments when all she can think of are the bad outcomes. That's why she pulls her car onto the familiar street where she spent most of her teenage years. The house hasn't changed much, except for some minor necessary improvements. But it instantly transports her back in time.

Home.

Didn't she return to Chicago for that particular reason—to seek the comfort her home had to offer and the support of the people she loved?

Knowing perfectly well that Hank is still at work, Erin jumps two steps at a time to find the door to the attic studio closed. She peeks inside, smiling warmly at the sight of Camille in the middle of one of her paintings. Her hair is pulled into a messy thing at the back, she has a spot of yellow paint on her cheek, and she looks absolutely blissful. Two knocks on the door wake Camille from her reverie; she smiles right back at Erin and motions to the empty chair next to her.

"This is a lovely surprise."

"I haven't watched you paint since I left. I missed it."

"You always used to come up here when something was bothering you. Not Justin, he came to get some quiet, but you, you came here to talk."

"You know me well," Erin murmurs. "There is something."

"A boy?" Camille shoots immediately, causing Erin to grin and roll her eyes.

"Maybe."

"Jay?"

"Maybe."

"Are you worried about working together and being together?"

Erin absentmindedly picks up a sketchbook and starts moving the pencil against the paper as she talks. It's easier that way, since she doesn't have to look at Camille. "That's part of it. I mean I need to talk to Hank about it if it goes any further, but that's not really it. I feel something for him that I haven't felt before. It scares me."

When Camille only smiles in return, Erin's curiosity prompts her to ask about it.

"Do you remember when you first moved in?" Erin nods, encouraging her to continue. "Do you remember the first fight Hank and I had?"

Erin thinks back and remembers it like it was yesterday. For such a nice woman, Camille sure had a big voice and was never afraid to use it—as she often could test herself. Sure enough, insults during fights were rare in the Voight household, but as any couple that has been together long enough, they had more than enough reasons to fight now and then. And they did.

"You paled all of the sudden, and you got so quiet. Like you were trying to make yourself smaller. We didn't even notice it, Justin did."

"I _was_ making myself smaller."

"It was what you taught yourself to do. We made a point of making up in front of you kids the next day. We didn't want to set a bad example. Not so much for Justin, he knew our fights were bogus, but you. We were worried you would become one of those girls who allow a guy to beat them because they think it's normal."

Erin's eyes water. "I almost did." God knows there was a guy smacking Bunny around almost every day. Her boyfriends never treated her as well as Erin now knows a man should treat a woman. But growing up surrounded by it, she had started to believe it was normal.

"I remember thinking that day that I wished to God you would get to have it one day. That kind of love for someone. And that you were lucky enough to be loved back."

"I think I am."

"Then what's the problem again?"

"I'm not sure I deserve him."

"If you say that one more time I will hit you with my brush, because that is all I currently have, but I'll make it hurt."

And she could, Erin knows. It makes her feel better. Like in a way she already knew she was being stupid, but she needed someone to confirm it. Camille's response was pretty close to what Jay had said, and she finds herself wanting to believe it. Glancing down at the sketch she made, she lets a tear roll down her cheek. A house standing, inviting, welcoming. The woman on the porch sceptical but smiling. The boy next to her annoyed they woke him up for this. The emotions on their faces captured perfectly, as well as the emotions of a teenage girl getting her first break in life, not knowing it would turn out to be the only one she needed.

It seems coming home was exactly what she needed.

If only the past didn't follow her here.

* * *

"Hey," he whispers softly, before pulling her behind him. Pushing slightly against the wall, he brushes their lips together, craving a kiss since he woke up alone that morning. "I missed you."

Three little words—just three innocent words, and Erin thinks she might lose it. He looks so sweet—his eyes gazing down at her, beautiful and changing the way the sky is. Her insides melt into a puddle of goo, and she flutters her eyes closed, pulling him in for another kiss. This one deeper than before.

"I need to talk to Hank about this," she tells him, breaking the kiss. Her hand on his chest is creating some much-needed distance between them.

Reluctantly, Jay lets her go, instantly missing her presence. But he nods. He understands why she's concerned. If Hank Voight was merely their boss, they probably wouldn't care, or he wouldn't care. But he's Erin's family, and neither of them wants to let him down.

"I can go with you."

"I know this concerns both of us, but I think it's something I need to do alone."

She decides to wait until after work. It seems like a good idea to try and keep work and personal issues as separate as possible. Wondering if he will make her transfer to another unit, she lets herself in, following the music to the patio in the back.

Hank and Camille are dancing, or something along those lines. It makes her feel instantly warmer, and she wishes for that so fervently. They don't notice her presence until she subtly clears her throat and their heads turn into her direction.

"Hey," she greets, "Hank, I was wondering if I could have a word?"

"I'll fix us some drinks in the kitchen," Camille says, winking at Erin. She always did know her well, could always see beyond the façade. Erin imagines the woman has a clear idea about what this conversation is about.

"You here about Halstead?"

"Yeah. I am." He nods without a word, which prompts her to continue. "I think I owe it to myself to try. As much as David hurt me, I gotta admit, I never felt for him what I feel for Jay. But I know how you feel about in-house romance, so I felt I needed to talk to you before pursuing my relationship with Jay."

He thinks for a moment. "And if I say _no_?"

Her reply comes without hesitation, without pause. She doesn't need one. It took her a good week to think it through—all the possible scenarios and outcomes. She found herself asking that same question, and the answer was surprisingly clear.

"I'll put in a transfer. And before you say he should do it, he offered, but it's not fair. I was the last to join the unit."

"Seems pretty serious," he comments, waiting for her reply.

"You know what you have with Camille? I think I can picture having that with Jay."

"Does he know about New York?"

"Yeah. I told him a couple of weeks ago."

"And?"

"He doesn't care, Hank. He didn't even complain when I ruined his favourite t-shirt with the mascara stains."

Voight huffs at that, but Erin thinks she can spot a new emotion on his face. _He respects Jay._ As he should, she thinks to herself. Jay has done nothing but earn it with his hard work in the unit. She knows Hank notices and appreciates him for that. But now there might be respect on a new, more personal level.

"Sounds like a good guy to me. Can you keep your relationship out of the work place?"

"I think we can."

"Then I see no reason for a transfer. But if there are any problems, I'm assigning you both new partners."

"Deal."

* * *

She doesn't realize what she's doing, until she's shaving her legs in the shower, humming to a familiar melody. She's getting ready. For a man. Something she hasn't done in months, in over a year even. The feeling of being wanted, and desired is almost forgotten by now, but judging by the way he's been looking at her, she thinks he can remind her.

This started as an unconscious decision, but it ends up being very conscious as she picks a set of black lacy underwear to wear under the dress. It's been too long since she's even had a reason to wear one—or maybe she just hasn't come up with one.

She drives over before she can change her mind, knocking on the same door she has knocked on so many times. They have spent countless nights here, drinking beer and watching action movies after work. Never crossing the line, but both painfully aware of how much they wanted to. Until that night.

The night when she almost died and it made them both too vulnerable to fight their supressed feelings. The night they finally gave into their desires.

As he opens the door, his eyes widen, taking her in slowly. He lets his gaze travel, roam, because a woman doesn't show up on a man's doorstep looking like this if she doesn't want to be looked at. And he does not disappoint.

As she pushes her way inside, he steps aside, finally getting over the initial surprise. He makes a mental note to tell her how amazing she looks later, when he knows how to use words again.

"Can I get you something?"

"You got any booze?" If he's surprised, he hides it relatively well.

"Beer?"

"Stronger," she murmurs, needing something to give her courage for what she's about to do.

He presents her with a bottle of scotch and is in the process of searching for glasses when she takes a large gulp straight from the bottle. It burns her throat, and it even smells like courage. She can't remember the last time she drank when she wasn't in the safety of her own home. But with him it's different, because there is no scenario, no universe where she doesn't trust him completely. And she doesn't have any intention of leaving tonight, if everything goes as planned.

Erin knew, since the moment he showed up at her place with pizza and coke, that he'd be the one. She wanted him to be. But she had to tell him first, and she had to let him decide if this was something he wanted to deal with. She could understand if it was a burden he didn't want to bear. But he has been nothing but supportive, somehow saying all the right things that her ex never could.

He reaches out for her, slowly, so she sees it coming, tugging her arm to pull her closer. She visibly relaxes when he touches her, as if she was afraid he wouldn't want to anymore. But he's looking at her and she knows she has to be the one to make the first move—he won't have it any other way.

So she melts against his body, pulling his head down so her lips can brush over his lazily, but in a way that makes it impossible for him not to understand her intent. He grins softly.

"Have I told you you're gorgeous yet?"

"Not yet," she murmurs, smiling back at him.

"You are."

There are so many more words, but he lets his kisses do all the talking. He explores her mouth, enjoying the taste of the whiskey mixing with the taste that is so uniquely _her._ As he finally dares to touch, his hands land on the curves of her hips, enjoying the warmth of her body and the way it responds to him.

"Are you sure about this?" He can see it, but he has to ask anyway. He needs her to say it.

"Yes."

"You say the word and we stop, okay? If it gets to be too much."

She nods, but that's the exact reason why she doesn't feel the need to stop. Not with him. He gave her back the control she so desperately needs, and she's more than grateful for that.

He takes time to worship the little black dress that clings to her body, feeling incredibly smug that he's the one she's wearing it for.

They don't rush. They have all the time in the world to appreciate each other the way they never got a chance to the first time, when it was over before it really began. His lips return to hers, making her focus on the kiss rather than any other thoughts, though he has nothing to worry about. She is lost in the pleasure of his touch, and all she can think about is the beautiful torture of the slow way he takes her to his bed.

When they get there, she turns almost immediately so he can unzip her dress, kicking off her heels at the same time. What he finds under the dress makes him even more smug, and he hums appreciatively against her skin as he paves it with kisses, slipping the bra straps off to reach her shoulders.

"You're overdressed," she says, teasing the quick, infectious chuckle out of him. Per her request he pulls the grey henley over his head, where it joins her dress in a pile on the floor. Then he kisses her again, until everything vanishes and she melts against him, clutching to him like a lifeline and kissing him back with the same passion. Her hands hook behind his sweats, pulling down and groaning with appreciation when she feels his muscular butt beneath her fingers.

He gets rid of her underwear, waiting to see if there is any reluctance, but she's looking at him like she can't wait to see what he'll do next, so he lays her on the bed and kisses his way up her leg, pushing her legs apart softly but intently, and before she realizes his finger is brushing over her clit, making her see stars. There is a brief moment when she tenses, obviously afraid of this moment, but then he kisses her in a way that makes all her fears evaporate.

He stills for a second, waiting to see if she's okay before adding another finger, pushing in softly, setting up a slow rhythm that makes her moan and bury her head in his pillow. When he brushes his thumb over her in just the right way, she comes crashing down, and before she can stop shuddering, he rolls on a condom and slides inside of her with a single, sure push of his hips.

She arches helplessly against him, as her orgasm continues and a tear slides down her cheek. He kisses it away, his eyes locking on hers with so many emotions—lust, tenderness, worry even.

But her hips buck up to meet his, and that's what he needs to start moving inside of her. His strokes are strong, steady and they send her spiralling into her second climax. He picks up his pace, coming right after her, both of them gasping for air.

He can't even move for a while, and when his limbs regain life, he rolls off, leaving a dangerously empty space behind. He hates to leave her and the warmth they created between them, so he jumps to the bathroom and rushes back, so he can pull her closer.

"You okay?"

She nods, hating that her eyes fill with tears again. "I just never thought it could be like this again. I feel like I just got a part of myself back."

She knows it probably won't be like this every time, and she will have ups and downs, but knowing she could still feel like this, that she isn't broken—is empowering. And she's glad he's the one she got to share it with.

* * *

"Morning," he murmurs, noticing that she woke up during his absence and pulled his shirt over her head. He stops in his step, realizing he wants every morning to be like this. He wants to wake up next to her, see her like this—all vulnerable, and sleepy and cute—for the rest of his life. _Whoa, did his mind really just go there?_

"Hey," she replies, watching the tray he's holding with surprise.

"I thought we'd do breakfast in bed. You still like scrambled right?" Her smile confirms that this was a good idea. She gives a nod to his question, her hair bouncing softly as she does. He joins her, carefully placing the tray on the bed. She digs in without words, and he chuckles when she tries to speak with her mouth full of eggs.

"It feels like we're just picking up where we left off," she mentions.

He nods, his expression pensive. "Not exactly though." It's her turn to nod, before he continues. "Is there anything I can do? To make this easier?"

"You're already doing it."

"But if you need anything, you'll let me know? If you feel bad about something?"

"I promise."

And for a second there, she thinks this just might work.

* * *

 **A/N2: I had a lot more planned for this fic, but due to my current lack of inspiration to write anything Linstead, I'll try to wrap it up quickly. I know it sucks, but it's either that, or leaving it unfinished and I don't want to be that person. I just find that lately writing Linstead is more of a chore than anything else, and I feel like maybe it's time to move on. There aren't many of you left reading, but I'm sure the ones that are, will understand.**

 **And you never know, inspiration might strike again.**

 **Love,**

 **-S**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Yes, hi, I'm not sure if you remember me? Or this fic? *grins apologetically***

 **I am so thankful to anyone still reading and still sharing your love for it with me. YOU ARE THE BEST.**

 **You know who is also the best? Sarah, who helped me fix this mess of a chapter. Like honestly, I don't know what I did to deserve her, but she was probably God's answer to my prayers.**

 **Also, this is the chapter where you'll find out what went down _that night._ It is also heavily M rated, so proceed with caution *wink* Some of my best smut if I may say so myself.**

* * *

"I'm sorry."

Her soft voice travels from the other side of the door with a sniffle. The closed bathroom door between them that Jay is currently leaning against. That he wants to take off the hinges so he can wrap his arms around her and tell her he will never let anyone hurt her again. His heart breaks into million pieces as he feels a physical piercing ache in his chest. He just wants to make this go away for her, but he can't think of a way. The next best thing seems to be to slide down on the floor and reassure her in the calmest voice he can muster.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. If anything, I should be sorry if I accidentally did or said something."

"You didn't," she is quick to assure him. "It comes randomly." At least she thinks it does. It's not like she has been in bed with that many men since it happened. None for that matter.

By _it_ , she means the full-blown panic attack she's experienced when they were in the middle of having sex. Literally in the middle. Of amazing sex, she might add, at least it was until she ruined it.

"Are you okay?"

"I just need some time. You should go and try to get some sleep. We have to be in so early tomorrow."

When she is met by silence on the other side, she takes a deep breath, experiencing a vivid déjà vu. But when she emerges from the bathroom almost an hour later, Jay isn't asleep in bed, or pretending to be. He's still leaning on the door frame. He stayed with her through the whole thing, even though she can see the tiredness in his eyes. His eyes study hers with worry, and knowing that he was on the other side of that door instantly makes her feel better.

"Hey," she murmurs. "You didn't go to sleep."

"I wanted to be here in case you needed anything. Or just to make you feel less alone."

Her eyes water. If only he knew how safe he makes her feel. How her nightmares have all but disappeared since he came into her life.

If only he knew how much she loves him.

It is way past midnight, and they have to get up at six. This was surely not how he planned their evening to end, and yet here he is. Acting like he doesn't mind at all. Like she isn't a burden. It makes her cry even harder, and it makes the words she speaks next truer than ever.

"I love you." The three words slide off her tongue with an ease she wasn't expecting. It took her almost a year to say it to David, but with Jay it's like a fact that has always been true.

He scrambles to his feet, touching her carefully. "I love you too. I think I've loved you since that day when you came into my life."

She allows herself to find comfort in his arms, to crumble like she often didn't get to before. She lets him lead her to the bed, crawling in to snuggle with him, forgetting about the panic that set in her bones just minutes before.

When Jay wakes up the next morning, his arm automatically reaches for Erin, and instead finds the bed empty and cold, which tells him it must have been a while since she got up. He groans, stretching first, before going in search of his girl.

There is a mug of coffee set on the counter, which Erin thoughtfully prepared for him. The thoughtful gesture makes a warmth spread over him. Next to it, on a post-it note, there is a short message scribbled:

 _Went for a run to clear my head. Make yourself at home. - E_

He grins, thinking of Erin dressed in her workout outfit. It instantly makes his morning better, and he decides to wait on his shower just in case she might want to join him, even though they really don't have that much time left. The clock on the oven shows the time at 4:45.

It gives him time to ponder everything that has happened lately. In light of Erin's revelation, he wanted to make sure he was there for her, but didn't fully grasp the horror she must have gone through.

He wonders about the details she didn't reveal. Was she alone after? Did she have a friend taking care of her? Did someone come get her to the hospital? Did someone stay with her to make sure she was okay? He wishes it could have been him. He wishes he could have been there for her in the worst moment of her life. He would have held her forever if necessary. He would exist solely to provide her comfort if that was what she wanted. Not that she needed him to fix her. She did that just fine on her own.

Again, he can't help marvelling at the kind of woman she became. When he first met her, she was a girl. Barely out of the Academy, she was the talk of every unit. But he was the lucky man who got her as a partner.

At first, Jay didn't know what to think of Erin. They said she got through the Academy because she knew a guy who pulled some strings. Some said she used to be a junkie and should never be allowed to be a cop. There were also some rumours that she slept with a guy to get her criminal record expunged.

Jay really wanted to make his own opinion. But he didn't need to worry. The first time he saw her wide smile and the dimples in her cheeks he knew he was a goner. And if that wasn't enough, she looked him straight in the eye five seconds after meeting:

"I'm Erin Lindsay, nice to meet you. Look, I know there are some rumours, and I don't really care what people say about me, but if we're gonna be partners, I figure we should start off honest. Yes, I have a record. I grew up on the street until someone decided to give me a chance. That guy happens to be a cop, and yes, he helped me, but no I didn't cheat. And I didn't sleep with anyone to get anywhere. Got it? "

His lips spread into a grin as he nodded. She was not at all like he expected. No Barbie doll, even though her face could put Barbie to shame. She was raw, brutally honest and as he soon found out, a great partner.

So many times, later on, Jay looked back on that moment, realizing how lucky he had been. He didn't only get to be her partner, but her friend and her fiercest defender against anyone who doubted her spot among the ranks.

Until that fateful day.

* * *

" _I swear if this turns into another lady with twelve cats I'm gonna turn in my badge." Erin mutters as they make their way to the seemingly empty warehouse unit. The neighbours called and reported a funny smell, which by now they know almost never turns out to be as exciting as it sounds._

 _They follow protocol, reporting their location, and knock on the door with the loud announcement of "Chicago PD" before entering._

 _And then all hell breaks loose._

 _Shots are coming from everywhere, and Jay isn't afraid to admit that he has never been so scared in his life. Walking into the warehouse, how was any of them to know that it would turn into a bloodbath. His eyes settle on something he soon recognizes as a gang sign, and quickly comes to a deduction. They walked in on gangs doing business and accidentally found themselves in the middle of a gang war._

 _They called for backup, of course they did, but by then it was already too late. The improvised drug lab was full of armed men and for a moment he didn't think they were going to make it. His eyes scan the place to find Erin, who found temporary shelter behind a wall. The sirens were approaching but they were not close enough._

 _Her eyes lock on his, and he shakes his head. They're outnumbered, they should wait for backup. But he knows her. He knows deep down she has a hero heart, and that's the last thing that goes through his mind before she launches forward, firm grip on her service weapon._

 _Never leaving a partner alone, he joins her, covering her back as they take down man after man. Some scramble and run, but most are pointing their guns at them, and he thinks it's a miracle that they haven't been hit yet._

 _It's the first time they're in the middle of something like that, so the surprise—the temporary shock—when the backup arrives is understandable, though unwise._

 _Because in that second of surprise—when they almost sigh with relief—one of them fires his gun and the bullet finally finds its target. When he thinks about it later he can see it almost in slow motion—like the world actually stopped for him to watch a bullet fly past him. Straight into his partner's chest._

 _His mind doesn't even register what happened until her body stumbles to the ground, and in that second, he doesn't think. He doesn't care if somebody shoots him dead, he needs to get to his partner._

 _He drags his heavy limbs across the floor, at least that's how it feels to him. Like eternity passes before he finally reaches her, horrified by the paleness of her skin. His fingers tremble as he reaches for the straps on her protective vest, pulling it off. His hand traces her skin gently, not caring in the slightest that the placement of his hand is not entirely appropriate._

 _Then he exhales._

 _He slumps to the floor, positive that the white noise in his ears would stay there for a while, but he could finally breathe again. Running his fingers through his hair, he does his best not to give into his emotions and kiss her, because that was the exact moment he realized that she was too important to him to ever lose._

 _It only takes another second before she comes to—not admitting how embarrassed she is by passing out when the bullet didn't even go through, though Jay informs her that the mere force of the kind of bullet she received was enough to knock out a grown man._

" _You had me for a second," he murmurs as she falls into his arms, craving the proximity and the intimacy they offer._

 _But after a while she pulls back, taking with her the soft heartbeat he felt against his skin and the warm breath that tickled his neck. Reluctantly, he lets go, knowing that she took his heart along with her._

 _Later that evening, after they've filed all the necessary paperwork, and she has refused to go to the hospital to get checked out at least ten times, they're walking towards the parking lot together. The silence between them isn't the usual kind—the comfortable absence of talking between friends. It's the deafening kind that signals toxic thoughts mixed with dangerous maybes._

" _Are you sure you're okay?"_

" _I'm fine," she replies almost automatically, her voice numb. And he knows she's right. He made sure there was no broken skin. Just a bruise forming on her chest and a hole on the vest he's probably getting framed. She is physically intact. But can he say the same for her mental state? He knows one thing for sure._

 _He can't say it for his own._

 _They reach their cars in silence, and Erin reaches for her keys turning to her car. Jay stops in his step and shakes his head again. "Hey, I'm not leaving you alone tonight."_

" _Jay, I'm fine," she repeats, looking at him softly and offering a smile. "Really."_

" _I'm not." This takes her by surprise, though honestly, it shouldn't. He's proved to her many times how much she means to him—as a friend, as a partner. "I don't know what I would've done if—" he can't force himself to finish the sentence, because the alternative of her standing here—a little shaken up, but fine—is too overwhelming._

" _Okay," she whispers and turns towards his car, and he's already opening her door for her. She slides in and waits for him to get in too._

 _He's awfully silent during the ride, and she wonders what's going on in his mind as the drops of rain finally start falling onto the windshield. She'd been expecting it—the humidity of the air forecasting it all day long. It feels almost like relief. But not quite._

 _She wants to make a remark, or a joke, but she sees his clenched jaw and changes her mind. Something has got him all twisted up, and soon enough, she finds out just what that is. Her hands tremble as she opens the door, sliding out of the car. She's soaked immediately, but it doesn't matter. The rain feels good on her body, reminding her she's still alive to feel it._

 _She lets the rain wash over her—the grime of the day slipping away with every drop, the smell of fear and death along with it. She doesn't realize at what point her tears have gotten mixed up with the rain, but she doesn't seem to care._

" _I should take you home," he remarks but makes no move, no effort to leave. Both soaked, they stand next to the car, one door still open letting the rain into the car. Erin pushes it closed and they both flinch at the sound._

" _What's wrong?" She asks, as if they're having a normal conversation, not standing outside wet and miserable. As if there are no tears in her eyes._

 _He snorts at the ridiculous question. "That's what I should be asking you right now. I'm surprised you haven't filed for a new partner yet."_

" _What? Why would I do that?" She asks, her eyes full of surprise. He doesn't usually act like this, so something must really be off._

" _I didn't have your back. I almost got you killed," he snaps. "Do you need me to go on?"_

" _Jay, what happened wasn't your fault."_

" _The hell it wasn't," he yells back at her._

" _I'm here and I'm okay," she reassures him as loudly as she can, grabbing his hand, clutching it tightly. Then, before she can rationalize it, she slams her lips against his in a desperate attempt to feel alive instead of numb. She kisses him to make him forget, and in the process, she is the one that ends up forgetting everything._

 _He responds by deepening the kiss, his tongue seeking entrance which she gladly allows and sighs into his mouth. If she knew this was how he kissed, she wouldn't have lasted this long._

" _I can't lose you."_

" _You won't," she promises, and he dives back in, drinking rain from her lips like he's dying of thirst. His hands sneak around her waist, underneath her shirt, needing to feel her hot skin under his fingers. When she moans at the touch, he knows there is no way he's stopping. He needs her. He needs to bury himself inside her like he had been imagining for too long._

 _He pulls her by the arm, and she follows willingly as they make their way into the building between kisses and soft laughs and awkward pauses. He slams her into the wall before they get to enter his apartment, groaning when she lets out a yelp. God, he needs her. He needs her now._

" _I need—fuck," he swears as he frantically searches for the keys. Once the door is open, his lips are on hers again and this time, they're not gentle and patient. They're rough and almost bruising. Still overwhelmed by guilt, and from almost losing her, he lifts her up, burying his face in her chest and pressing a feverish kiss against the purple spot where the bullet almost came through. They both stumble out of their shoes, making their slow way towards his bedroom._

 _He sheds his shirt, while her hands make quick work of his belt buckle, somehow shaky and steady at the same time. Once rid of his pants, he lifts her, groaning when she lowers her hips and rubs herself against him for friction, peeling off her wet top and bra at the same time._

" _Erin, fuck—you're—wow." Speechless he trails kisses down her jaw, pausing at the pulse point on her neck, sucking on her skin. He knows it will leave a mark. He wants to leave a mark._

 _His name rolls off her tongue when he sucks on her nipple, half a sigh and half a moan. He hasn't even really touched her yet, and she's already halfway there._

" _Jay, please."_

" _Please what? What do you want, Erin?"_

" _Touch me."_

 _The last falls from her lips with a smile that's both seductive and shy at the same time. But then again, he has always known her to be full of contradictions. Fierce yet gentle. Closed off yet warm once you got to know her. Sassy yet insecure._

 _And he knows all of the sides there are to her. Except this one._

 _Setting her on the bed, he slides off the wet jeans with some difficulty, Erin helping him by shimmying her hips, not batting an eyelash when he pulls off the cotton fabric of her underwear along with it._

 _Finally bare for him to explore, he kisses her damp skin, starting with her ankle. She tastes like rain and heaven, and her skin has a faint hint of raspberry scent. He traces his kisses up, sucking on the gentle skin of her legs, leaving fresh red marks on her thighs. She whimpers underneath his touch._

" _God, you're so fucking wet," he says, when he touches her. He feels somewhat close to proud that he can make her need like this._

" _Jay, please," she begs._

" _Tell me what you want."_

 _There is a moment of silence, before her raspy voice fills the room._

" _Fuck me."_

 _And even though her words are crude, there is nothing crude about the way his breath hitches as he finally presses a kiss to her core—before starting to slide his tongue up her clit, driving her straight to madness._

 _Her fingers are tugging on his hair—her legs wrapped around his head when she calls out his name over and over again. The release comes with a bang, leaving behind a different kind of numbness. The good kind. The kind that makes her limbs feel like they're made of butter, and she sighs with content, wanting more._

" _I want you inside me."_

 _He wants that too._

 _So he doesn't waste any time, pulling down his boxers, which is the only barrier left between them. He's already rock-hard just from the noises she made when she fell apart with his help, so he rummages the nightstand until he feels the familiar foil package and rips it open. Erin stares at him with amazement._

 _Then there is a second when the heat simmers down for only a degree or two, allowing them to grasp the concept of how real this is. Her eyes lock on his when he waits at her entrance, maybe waiting to see if there is any reluctance, but she lifts her hips to meet him and he slams into her, making her feel so full as she stretches to accommodate him._

 _She moves her hips, and he stills her, afraid that he won't last long enough. With a controlled rhythm, he starts thrusting into her._

 _But control doesn't last._

 _It's replaced by fever. It's the only way he can describe it, when he abandons all sense and slams into her hard and fast. He feels her almost there, her breaths shortening, her heartbeat fastening._

" _Come for me," he whispers in her ear. He wants to watch her fall apart underneath his body for the second time that night. He wants to watch as her eyes dim with pleasure and her voice gets throaty and she calls out for God, because damn the pleasure he's making her feel is nearly too much to handle._

 _She explodes in his arms, and he releases whatever self-control he had left and falls on top of her. For a minute or two, he thinks he might have died and gone to heaven, because the feeling of her around him is too good to be true._

 _When he finally rolls off, afraid he'll crush her, she groans at the empty space he leaves behind, instantly missing the feel of his damp skin against hers._

 _He goes to the bathroom to discard the used condom, and she comes in to pee. They avoid eye contact, neither of them knowing what to say—what happened between them too out of this world to even try to make sense of it. She considers leaving, but then he pulls her into him._

 _This time, his kiss is gentle, as he whispers softly._

" _Stay."_

 _And for one more night, she does._

* * *

When Erin makes her way into her apartment, she grins when she sees him sitting at the table in nothing but boxers while sipping on coffee. He looks too handsome and too domestic, and she feels her heart flutter.

"Morning," she greets almost shyly. She has no idea how to act around him now that he witnessed the very worst she has to offer. He will probably be reluctant to even touch her now. "I'm gonna go grab a shower."

He raises from his sitting position, gives her a nod, then smirks. "Want some company?"

Her eyes widen in surprise, and she thinks he can hear her swallow.

"Sure. I need someone to peel this bra off of me anyway."

Luckily, Jay is all too familiar with the invention that is the sports bra. He grins, his hands reaching for her instantly, pausing to see if there was any push-back. But when there isn't, he walks her to the bathroom and shows her just how not scared he is to touch her after all.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hey guys! I hope you like this chapter, it gets quite angsty towards the end, but I love breaking my favorite characters. What can I say.**

 **Huge thanks to Sarah, without whom my writing would not be half as good. She is an amazing beta and a sounding board for all my ideas.**

 **I have also decided that I am going to be moving this story (and all my other stories, to AO3. With Article 13 passed, it's only a question of time before they delete my account on here, so if you want to follow me there, I will let you know my username so you can find me. Apparently ao3 will be an exception because it's a non-profit, so you will be able to read me there from now on.**

* * *

Playful.

That's how Jay is feeling when they make their way into the bullpen that morning. Playful. Happy. Almost floating as he cheerfully greets Platt and stops himself from whistling as he walks through the door. It reminds him of having a high school crush on a girl who happens to reciprocate his feelings.

Well in a way, it's not far from the truth.

That's until he spots someone new in the bullpen. His body tenses, going into full detective mode, immediately assessing the possible threat. A tall guy with sandy blonde hair and a chiselled jaw is standing in the middle of the room, acting like he owns it. At first glance, he doesn't seem to pose a threat. He looks hot—the makes other guys nervous around their girlfriends kind of _hot._ But that's not what makes Jay nervous. It's the look of complete horror on Erin's face. The colour draining from her cheeks and her knuckles turning white when her hands make fists so tight he's convinced her nails are going to leave marks on the inside of her palms.

He whispers her name, desperate to do anything to pull her from her daze, but she keeps staring at the guy with so much animosity that Jay wouldn't want to be on the other side of that stare. That's when it clicks. There is only one person he can think of that would deserve that much loathing from Erin.

Her ex-boyfriend. The person who left her at her most vulnerable.

His hand also makes a fist. He just wishes he could connect it to his smug face.

* * *

"Hank, you can't do this to me. You can't make me work with him." She throws her hands up in the air in exasperation, wondering what she did to deserve this. A loud sigh escapes her lips, and when she's finally composed enough to look at her boss slash father figure, he's watching her with a loving but amused expression.

"I don't really have a choice. I can approve your furlough if you'd like, but other than that my hands are tied. This is a high-profile case that brought him here, and the order came from above."

He looks tired, she takes notice. Not in a way that she's used to him being tired, when he gets grumpy and Camille sends him to bed. More like worn to the bones _tired._ Erin feels glad that he doesn't know. As forthcoming as she's been about the New York situation, she hasn't told him what went down between David and her. Didn't explain in detail how he decided she wasn't worth the trouble.

Now him being here in Chicago, makes her glad she hadn't. Because if Hank knew the kind of scum he was dealing with, David's face would be smashed into the ground already. Or maybe he'd be down at the docks, tying a rock to his feet.

Her gaze softens. "I get it. It just sucks."

"There's one more thing," Hank starts, and she knows by the look in his eyes that he kept the worst for last.

"What?"

"He wants to ride with you."

She wants to throw things.

She doesn't. Instead she pulls whatever strength she has left after the night she's had, and recomposes herself. When her eyes finally look up from the floor to meet his, they are ice cold. "Fine," she says. "But Jay stays. I'm not giving up my partner so he can get off on whatever twisted game he's playing." And neither will she miss the chance to rub her new relationship in his face.

Hank just nods and she leaves the bullpen, almost resisting the urge to slam the door into his face. Almost. To be fair, she really tries but when everyone—including her douchey ex-boyfriend—flinches at the sound, a wave of satisfaction rushes over her and she figures it was well worth it.

* * *

When Jay finds her five minutes later, she's mostly gotten it out of her system. For now, anyway. Her hands have stopped shaking and her breaths have gone from erratic to normal. But still, he can't help but feel alarmed when he sees her so insecure, so undone with absolutely no way of making her feel better.

He can be as strong as possible, but it does her no good. It makes him feel helpless.

Still needing to reassure her in a way—to remind her that he's there—his arms wrap around her with hesitation, almost as if he's afraid to touch her. Afraid that she might not want his touch. But she melts into his body, seeking comfort in his warm familiar embrace. They hold on each other for what could be one minute or ten, before they finally let go.

He pulls back to scan her face, knowing that any sign of further distress would be visible to his prying eyes. But she looks calmer. "You good?" The soft words are meant to break the tension between them. He knows she's not _good,_ or _fine._ The past that had been nipping at her heels for a while just crashed down next to her with the force of a meteor.

"I am now," she reassures him, knowing that they both know the real answer. But the physical aspect of saying it, combined with putting on her game face makes her feel more ready. She gets up and pulls him after her. "Let's go face the music."

He holds her hand until it's appropriate. Then he reluctantly lets go.

David is waiting for her leaning on the 300. It turns out they already have a potential lead to check out on the case. Even though Hank only caught Erin up on the essentials, she imagines the rest of them were thoroughly briefed while she was yelling in Voight's office.

"Ready, sunshine?"

"Behave," she growls in a low voice. Damned if she will let him intimidate her. "Also, I'm driving. My city, my rules."

"Shotgun," Jay simply says, grinning. It's worth noting that his grin doesn't quite reach his eyes in this case, making it seem cold and fake, which is exactly what he intended it to be.

They make him sit in the back, while the act of driving allows Erin to regain control. If only he just sat in the back seat without talking.

"Everyone misses you back in New York."

"I bet," she replies, clearly indicating she doesn't believe him. Even more clearly indicating that she doesn't want to talk to him at all. About any subject. But he doesn't take a hint. He never could.

"What does Chicago have that New York doesn't? You left the best job, you were so close to getting promoted."

"Home. Family. Support. Cubs. Take your pick," she explains, her patience running out too quickly.

Jay jumps in the conversation, clearly uncomfortable and growing upset and angry. She can't blame him. If his ex-girlfriend, who hurt him, showed up, she would back her into a corner and show her just how good her right hook is.

So he starts talking about the case and Erin joins in, grateful for a chaperone for the first time ever. Or else someone might just end up dead in some Chicago ditch. She grew up in this city. She knows where to dump a body.

* * *

The case drags and drags, the elusive drug cartel spreading and leaving behind a trail of female bodies. After they run out of leads, Voight gruffly tells them to get some sleep.

As they walk towards the parking lot, Erin is reminded of the day she almost died back on patrol. Only this time, when his gaze locks on hers, there is no hesitation. There are no tentative looks and no _"I'm not letting you go home alone"_ type of sentences. The look they share is enough to slowly warm up her cold insides. To melt the ice that she's been keeping there since they started working this case. She follows him to his car without words.

David is there, looking at her as if he's waiting for her. As if he wants to talk. But she is so tired, she can barely keep her eyes open as it is, and she definitely cannot deal with an emotional confrontation at that moment, so she lets Jay open the door for her and crawls into the passenger seat of his car, before exhaling with relief and buckling her belt.

They order pizza. They eat it sitting on the kitchen counter, drinking milk out of a carton because that's all he has in the refrigerator. Erin can't help thinking this might be the most intimate meal she's ever shared with a person.

After fuelling up, they share an exhausted shower—so unlike the one they shared days ago. There are no teasing touches, no kisses. They lather each other up, rinsing away the dirt and the grime from the job.

They fall into bed together. The comfort they share is in no way sexual. The way her head rests on his shoulder in search of intimacy can only be described as tender, and the soft kiss he places on her head before they both drift to sleep is enough to say _I'm here. I'm not going anywhere._

And there is nowhere she'd rather be.

* * *

"You coming over?" She has her phone pressed between her ear and her shoulder as she tries to butter a piece of bread at the same time. She is too exhausted—emotionally and physically—to cook. Even something out of a box seems like too much trouble, so she's decided this will have to be her dinner.

"Maybe later, I promised Will I'd stop by. He has something he wants to talk to me about."

"Alright. I might turn in early. You have a key." She grins at the words. She caved in, sliding a copy over the table during breakfast, trying to be all casual about it, even though this is a big step for her. He was there almost all the time anyway, so she figured it was convenient. Always in sync, he grinned at her, reaching into his jacket to provide a copy of his apartment key, already made and waiting. She was happy he had it tonight.

"I'll see you later," he promises. "Love you."

"Love you too." Her cheeks burn, her lips craving his to seal the words with a kiss. But she's going to have to wait. She glances at the buttered-up piece of bread. Ah, screw that. She's having ice cream for dinner.

The doorbell rings just as she's scooping the last bit of Cookie Dough out of the container. She rolls her eyes, yelling out, _you have a key, you know?_

But when she opens the door, it isn't Jay's cheeky smile greeting her. It a blast from the past.

"I told you, you can't avoid me forever, Erin," David mutters, pushing his way into her apartment.

Erin stands there, helpless, angry that he's managed to take her agency away once again. How dare he just march into _her_ apartment and act like he lives there.

"What do you want?"

"I want to talk. You left New York, acting like it was all my fault. Like I was some bad guy. I didn't know what to say to you. How to touch you. How to treat you. You've made me out to be some sort of a villain, but I was hurting too."

Tears well in her eyes, remembering how she felt that night. How ignored and unloved he made her feel. "Anything would've been better than what you did. Awkward words, attempts to comfort. ANYTHING!" The last word echoes around the room as she flings a glass at him.

"You made me feel like I was a burden. I was already feeling insecure and YOU DIDN'T FUCKING HELP! YOU LEFT ME! BECAUSE IT WAS EASIER FOR YOU! DID YOU THINK YOU WOULD JUST WAIT FOR ME TO GET BETTER AND THEN SWEEP IN LIKE SOME PRINCE CHARMING? DID YOU THINK I WOULD WAIT FOR YOU?"

She throws something else, not even knowing what it is—only that it crashes loudly against the wall, breaking into tiny pieces. They're just things. So easily broken. Just like hearts. But she can go to Ikea tomorrow to buy new glasses. If only she could buy a new heart. Unbroken. Undamaged.

She knows one thing. She wouldn't trust David with it.

"You don't want to be a villain," she sobs between deep breaths, "I get it. But the fact is David, that I was raped and somehow what you did hurt more. So, in my story, that's exactly what you are."

"I'm sorry," he says, blinking, as if only now realizing he had done something bad. At least it sounds half-sincere, she thinks. "I need you to forgive me."

"You need something from me that I can't give you," she says with shaky breaths. "Not now. Maybe not ever. That's just something you're gonna have to live with. Like I have to live with the fact that I wasted four years on someone who didn't care. That I put my heart into the hands of someone who crushed it without thought."

"Erin, please?"

"I WILL NOT ABSOLVE YOU SO YOU CAN SLEEP AT NIGHT! I WILL NOT PUT YOUR PRIDE BACK TOGETHER AFTER YOU BROKE ME!" She grabs something again. A plate. Who cares.

So easily broken.

"GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!"

Chasing him out of the apartment, she keeps throwing things, even after he's already gone. Every piece or item that ends up on the floor somehow a metaphor for her heart. It's cleansing. For a minute she wishes it was raining, so it would wash all of it off.

Then her body crumbles into a sad pile on the floor, her eyes empty, staring into nothing, feeling as broken as the pieces of porcelain around her, as she cries, and cries, and cries.

Until there is nothing left.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Hello, my lovelies. I hope you're all doing alright! I've been battling the seasonal depression a bit lately, so that's why updates are a bit slow. The death of nature around me just doesn't inspire me that much. I'm trying to get over it really hard, and I just thought that I'd mention that I heard reviews are especially good for that ;)**

 **A big _thank you_ to my beta Sarah, queseraone. She is amazing and I don't know what I did to deserve her help or her friendship, but I cherish it dearly.**

 **Another big _thank you_ to every single soul who reviews and lets me know that I'm not shouting this into the void. It makes it all worthwhile.**

* * *

Jay makes his way up the familiar staircase to Erin's apartment. Pulling out his keys, he shuffles through them for the right one. It feels strange yet right at the same time to use his key for the first time. Who would have thought, all those years back, that they would end up together? He never dared to dream it.

He smiles as he slides it into the lock, reminding himself to keep quiet in case Erin is already asleep. She did say she was going to turn in early.

He imagines entering the bedroom. He'll lose his clothes and slide into the bed next to her. With the way she curves against him when he wraps his arm around her waist, and the way he buries his nose in the crook of her neck, inhaling the familiar sweet scent of her body lotion, it's no wonder that sleeping with her is becoming his new favourite thing. It's an addiction. A non-dangerous one, but still an addiction that he never wants to be cured of.

But nothing could prepare him for the picture before his eyes—her apartment trashed, her body in a sad pile surrounded by broken glass. She doesn't seem to notice him as she rocks back and forth. It's pain, he thinks, gruelling, sleep-stealing pain—heart-wrenching pain.

His mind is wired a certain way after being a cop for so many years, so his first thought is that there was a break-in. But nothing except glass was broken, and the door was locked when he came in.

Then all rational thoughts disappear. He kneels next to her carefully, pushing the debris aside so it doesn't hurt him. Erin looks distressed.

"Babe? Erin? Can you hear me? What happened here?"

Her limbs lay still at her sides, her head unmoving. No nods. No words. Her lips remain shut tight. Her eyes are wide open, but they stare into an empty space, so he figures she must be in a state of shock.

"I'm gonna see if you're hurt anywhere, okay?" He murmurs the question. He doesn't want to startle her by touching her without warning. Then his hands land on her skin, gentle and comforting as he caresses the skin, searching for cuts and bruises. He finds a bleeding cut on her arm, another on her knee. He curses softly, pushing the broken pieces of plates and bowls aside before scooping her up into his arms—his first priority is getting her away from anything that can do more damage.

He sets her down on the couch, and when he unclenches her hands, he finds more shards of glass there. But she's squeezed those, so they're worse than the other two cuts. She looks at him then, like she's only just realized that she's no longer alone, and for a second, he thinks she'll say something, but her lips part only to close again. He doesn't think twice, lifting her and making a beeline to his car.

The fact that she doesn't protest when he carries her into the hospital is sign enough of how out of it she is. Erin hates hospitals. He knows that.

Jay paces the hall while they take care of her cuts, cleaning and bandaging them. It turns out, she doesn't need any stitches, so after they're done, he's free to take her home, even though the doctor first suggests they keep her for psych evaluation. Jay shakes his head, taking her out of the place she hates. It's not until they're driving that she finally speaks.

"I'm sorry you had to see that."

"What happened?" He battles the wide range of emotions bubbling inside of him—anger being the strongest at the moment.

"David showed up." Her voice doesn't shake as she explains this to him. It's cold and steely, just how he would imagine it would sound when she talked about someone she hated. "He wanted me to forgive him." Pause. "I lost it." The latter is more an admission of guilt, though he assures her immediately she has nothing to feel guilty for. Except scaring him half to death.

"Tell me you threw some at him too?"

A ghost of a smile confirms his suspicion. His fingers grip the steering wheel so hard, his knuckles turn white. He can't help but feel helpless that he has to watch someone who already hurt her so badly in the past come back to do more damage. _Forgiveness,_ he scoffs in his mind. He doesn't deserve it. There is a special circle of hell reserved for guys like him.

"Can we go to your place?" She asks, her voice barely a whisper. It's silent and ashamed and vulnerable. His hand reaches over the gear shift to wrap his fingers around hers. It's the only reassurance he can think of that still allows him to keep his eyes on the road.

"Of course."

When they arrive at his apartment, he fishes out some sweats for her to wear before giving her some privacy to change, which becomes more ridiculous the more he thinks about it. He's seen her naked before. Rolling his eyes, he returns to the bedroom, not keen to leave her alone for too long. Despite his assurances to the doctor, Jay is concerned about her state of mind.

She hasn't moved at all from her position on the bed. The clothes lie, untouched, on the bed next to her while she sits looking down at her hands. More like staring intently. Like they hold an answer to every possible problem she has.

Hesitating, he sits down next to her slowly, deliberating his move as he feels the mattress shift beneath him. He doesn't want to startle her.

"Are you okay?" He poses the question he's had on his mind since the hospital. He let her go in alone, not sure if they were at the point in their relationship where he could invade her privacy like that. But he wants to know.

"Just a couple of cuts, it's no big deal."

"What do you need?"

His question seems to surprise her, judging by her wide eyes and bewildered expression. But he doesn't know what else to do. His whole being aches with desire to help her—to do _something_ —but he doesn't know what. He wants to be anything she wants him to be, but he needs her to tell him what.

"Just hold me?" Her voice is tiny, and it sounds wrong, because he's not used to such a tiny voice from Erin. But he simply nods and motions for her to climb into bed. He follows, pulling her body into his, careful not to disrupt any of her wounds. Her content sigh brings a soft smile on his face, and it's not long before they both slip into the land of dreams—this time free of any nightmares.

* * *

The case is wrapped up. Jay could thank God himself for that, because he's pretty sure that they would never have solved it without an anonymous tip. It might have as well have come from above.

Nursing a beer in his hand, he makes idle conversation with Gabby while waiting for Erin to come back from the restroom. The case was a hard one for all of them, especially since it ended with them finding all the girls they were searching for. Dead, piled inside a van. So it's safe to say, they all needed a drink.

He doesn't even realize that his eyes are glued to her drink, his fingers wrapped around the shot glass. When his least favourite person sits down next to him, he doesn't let go, instead only shifting his attention to him.

"So you and Erin, huh?" David asks with a knowing smirk. One that Jay wishes he could wipe off his face forever.

"I don't see how that's any of your business," Jay replies, as calmly as can, while sipping his beer. His eyes meet Ruzek's and they share a silent conversation. _What a jackass._

"Well if you don't mind picking up someone's sloppy seconds. Several someone's," he says, "I assume she told you about the rape?" Jay sees red. Rage builds up inside him like rising tide. What David said wasn't just diminishing. It was sharing private information with someone she might not have told yet. And, as he is soon reminded by the gasps of surprise, surrounded by many people she indeed hasn't told.

His fist gains life of its own and before he can rationalize it or stop himself, it connects with David's jaw. His mind is boiling, and he thinks it's only fair he gets a small portion of the hurt he caused Erin back. David stumbles off the stool and tries to swing back, only to be stopped by Jay's firm fist. It's taking every ounce of self-control to stop himself from making his face unrecognizable.

Just for the sake of it, he takes another swing at his face, enjoying the way something cracks when he does. "You're despicable, and I'd love nothing more than to pound you straight into the ground. But instead I'll just say this, get your toxic ass back to New York and don't come back. And if I see you saying as much as another word to Erin, ever again, I will make sure that you will die a slow and painful death."

That's the moment Erin chooses to come back from the restroom, her step coming to a halt. The electricity in the air can be felt even without seeing the scene playing out before her. Her brain starts sending mixed signals about it.

 _Yes, do it, he deserves it._

 _No, you're better than this._

As if on cue, Jay releases David's body and pushes him slightly. He looks victorious and guilty at the same time, if that's even possible. She vaguely registers that Ruzek and Atwater are taking David outside, but all she can see is Jay.

His face is scrunched up, as if he's worried about what he just did. His eyes are searching for her frantically and she touches his hand to let him know she's there.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

They speak at the same time, able to predict what the other is going to say. Erin's palm cups his cheek, her other searching for his injured hand. When she finds it, she presses a soft kiss on the knuckles that are already turning purple. Then for good measure, she presses another one on his lips, letting him know with absolute certainty that she is not mad.

"Let's go home," she tells him.

One day she'll convince him to tell her what David said to make Jay so mad he punched him. But for today, she just wants to go home with him, so he can make love to her.

Preferably more than once.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I really am sorry for not posting in so long. I've been dealing with some stuff, and I just didn't feel it. I had this chapter actually written, but I forgot to post it, so here you go.**

 **Huge thanks to my beta Sarah! She's my MVP.**

* * *

" _This,"_ she says, "was a great idea." Her voice drips with sleep, but not the exhausted kind. The lazy kind of sleep you get so rarely, mostly only on vacation when there is nowhere to be and nothing to do. She lays on a wooden sun lounger with a cushion that's almost as thick as a mattress. The breeze carries in the sounds from the beach, but she's too cosy to open her eyes. She can't even recall the last time she took a vacation—it must have been years ago with Hank, Camille and Justin. And even they always preferred vacations near a lake or in the mountains.

But this—the scorching sun burning her skin, the half-empty mojito glass full of melting ice she's gripping with her hand, and the sound of the waves in the distance—is something she understands people raving about.

It's the vacation she always dreamed of, and hell if she didn't deserve it.

"I know. I'm full of them," Jay replies, cocking his eyebrow to somehow prove his point.

The idea that they both needed to spend some time away—preferably together—was Jay's, and she gives him credit for that. He even made all the arrangements, since apparently he knew a guy who owned a beach house down in La Paz. They both took a leave of absence, their boss not really complicating about that, and this was currently week two of paradise.

"Really? Do you have another one?" She asks, squinting at him from her position.

"I definitely think we should go back to our room," he suggests, his voice heavily charged with what Erin recognizes as pure sex. It causes a dull ache to spread in her lower stomach.

"You're probably right," she replies, her voice dripping honey. "We wouldn't want you to get burnt." She finishes her cocktail in one sip before sitting up straight to look at him. His eyes are gleaming with mischief and something else—something that Erin has become well accustomed to in these past couple of days.

She definitely doesn't hold the fact that he can't get enough of her against him. If anything, it's fuelling her own desire. She has never craved sex with anyone as much as she does with Jay. At a mere glance of him still sprawled on the chair, her mouth waters. He's wearing nothing but a pair of board shorts, and his skin has gotten golden under the sun. His freckles stand out and she suddenly can't wait any longer.

Leaning in, she whispers something that borders on obscene in his ear. On any other occasion, it would cause a blush to spread across her face, but in all fairness, can she be blamed for losing all decency at the sight of him? She declares victory when he clears his throat, trying to swallow the sudden wave of desire that washes over him.

With a grin, she struts past him in nothing but her bikini, leaving him to gather the towels and follow her to their current home. As soon as they're both inside, out of the unforgiving afternoon sun, the towels hit the floor. She turns, a teasing comment dead on her lips when he crashes her into the nearest wall. She thinks she'll never tire of being slammed into walls, as long as he's the one doing it.

"It's not nice to tease," he tells her, his hands enjoying the lack of barriers, stroking the skin still warm from the sun. He reaches behind her, pulling on the string of her bikini with slow torturous movement. His smile only grows when she steps on her toes, reaching up to kiss him.

"Teasing is only bad if it doesn't lead anywhere," she whispers, and he has to agree with her assessment. His lips finally melt into hers like it's what they were meant to do. Her hand settles on the back of his neck, her fingers gripping his hair like she will never let go. The moans she's letting out are his own personal brand of hell, and he feels his arousal grow by just listening to the sounds she makes.

His first thought is that they need to get to the bedroom, but it's a little late for that. Their breaths are too ragged, their movement too frantic to make it, so he spins her around, pressing her body into the wall as his fingers skirt higher up her thighs, until they press against her soft flesh.

"God, you're so wet. How long have you been thinking about this?"

"All. Day. Long," she manages between moans. She needs him—she needs the delicious escape his fingers can bring.

Whimpering at the cold feeling of her breasts pressing against the surface, her body stretches languidly back into his embrace, then lets out a loud gasp when she feels the head of his arousal press against her core.

"Jay—"

But it doesn't prompt him to move, and Erin can practically see the smug grin on his face. He teases her—hard against sensitive flesh until her whole body is on fire with anticipation and need that borders on physical pain.

Then, without warning, he buries himself inside of her, hardly giving her any time to adjust before slamming into her with reckless abandon. Slow turns into fast, gentle into wild. It would be the exact type of sex—or fucking if you will—that would tend to bring out her bad experience from the past, but he peppers her back with tender kisses, which are in complete contrast to the rhythm in which he's pounding into her.

"Jay, I'm so close," she pleads, actually surprised that she gets any cohesive words out at all. Knowing that he won't deny her is oddly comforting, and surely enough, he picks up his pace, the hands that were previously gripping her hips to keep them steady move to the front, cupping her breasts to provide additional stimulation.

"Come for me, babe. God, you feel so good."

It's the push she needs to come crashing over the edge of that cliff. She convulses in his arms, falling back against his hard chest. The strength of the orgasm brings tears to her eyes, and she would find it ironic if she wasn't worried about something else.

"You didn't…"

"It's okay," he assures. "I love watching you fall apart."

She decides in that moment, grinning at him, still half in a haze, as she sinks down to her knees. The floor is hard and her knees will hurt later, but in that moment all she cares about is providing him with the same insane pleasure he gave her.

Her lips wrap around him, gently licking before taking it all in, inch by inch, until his throbbing cock is all the way inside her mouth. He makes a sound out of this world as she moves, still tasting herself on him.

His hands lace in her hair like it's an instinctive reaction. His knees buckle and he crashes back against the wall with a groan, but she just keeps bobbing her head, until she feels him shake, his fingers tugging at the hair he's gripping. Mirroring his earlier comment, she thinks how right he is. She does love to watch him fall apart.

"You didn't have to," he tells her, after coming down from his high. "But thank you."

She licks her lips with a smile. "I wanted to."

In their post-coital bliss, they don't make it to the bedroom at all. They collapse on top of each other on the small couch in the living room area, limbs heavy and hearts content. It doesn't take long before they drift off to an afternoon nap.

If only this could last forever.

* * *

"Are you sure nobody said anything?" She asks for the fourth time since they got to their little piece of paradise in La Paz. He knows it's been on her mind a lot—the fact that David brought up her rape in front of the guys from the unit.

"Erin, nobody said a thing. They all love you, and if someone says something, they'll have to deal with me." He doesn't tell her about how sorry the guys were to hear what she's gone through, how understanding that she never shared this with them, how angry for her, how upset. It would serve no purpose for her to know. Maybe he'll tell her when this all settles down, if only to make her understand how loved she is by her second family.

"I just, I don't want them to tiptoe around me. Or treat me like I'm made of glass."

"I'm sure it'll be fine. This is a part of you, but it's not who you are. It's just one layer, that yeah, helped shape you into the person you are, but you haven't let it define you."

"I hope so." She sighs. "The truth is that I've been dreading going back."

"We can stay a bit longer if you'd like. I'm sure Voight will allow it."

"It's not that. Just going home to that apartment, it makes me sick for some reason." She tries explaining it to him, but doesn't find the right words. They always seem to elude her lately. But as usual, he knows exactly what she means without having to speak it out loud.

"Then don't."

"What do you mean?" She asks, sitting up straight on the couch, so she can look at him, as if that will somehow clarify his meaning.

"There's something I've been meaning to ask you. You'll think it's too fast."

"What is it?"

"I know it's only been a couple of months, and this seems like rushing in, but when you know, you know. And I know that I don't ever want to do this with anyone else, ever again."

"Jay, spit it out."

"I think we should move in together."

Someday, she would look back on this moment and remember all the ways in which this made her love him even more. The ways in which this sentence made her see that she wanted a future with him. How the lack of hesitation at the answer in her head cleared her of any doubts. But in that moment, all she feels is relief. It washes through her like cold ocean water on the hottest day of the year, making her entire body tingle with it.

"I think you're right."

It seems that Jay was just starting to explain further why this isn't a horrendous idea, and then he catches on, a smile illuminating his face to the point where he looks too handsome and she has to kiss him.

"I love you," he murmurs before she leans in, and she doesn't even have to say the words to make sure he knows they're true.

* * *

"We could just stay. We could open a coconut farm or whatever people do around here for a living. You know, a simpler way. No criminals. No serial killers. No rapists."

"That sure sounds tempting," he replies, admiring the way in which her hair is starting to curl softly from the salty water. "We could live in a hut."

That brings a smile to her face, her hand slipping into his as they make their way across the sandy beach. It's their last night, so they opted to go for a walk that allows them to admire the last in a row of magnificent sunsets. The colours play on the sky—blue, magenta and orange, mixing in what is the second most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

The part of the beach they're on is mostly vacant, aside from a stray seagull here and there. He looks at her and thinks that this has to be the happiest he's ever seen her. Her skin is freshly tanned from the sun, her face glowing with a smile, her hair let loose and her bare feet buried in the sand. He wants to burn this image into his mind for when things are less ideal.

"What are you thinking about?" She asks, interrupting his thoughts.

"You. How beautiful you are. How I don't tell you that enough," he replies honestly, earning himself a blush. "How about you?"

"I was thinking that there is one thing I always wanted to try."

"What's that?" He asks. In hindsight, he probably should have guessed from the wicked glint in her eyes that it was something wild and careless, but when she pulls her top over her head, grinning at him, he forgets all the reasons against it.

"Skinny dipping."

And just like that, he's a goner.

She races him to the water, leaving a trail of clothing in the sand before hitting the wave and letting out a scream of joy. He catches her just in time to catch her as she catapults herself into his arms, wrapping her legs around him in the most sensual way.

It's safe to say, they have a hell of a last night.

* * *

She is woken up from the restless slumber when the plane shakes softly. Judging by the view out the window, they should be arriving soon, since she can see the outline of the city in the distance. Jay is sleeping on the seat next to her, his head leaning on her shoulder.

It's a precious sight and she never wants to forget it. Especially since going back feels anything but carefree. Just like she once left New York behind, she did the same with Chicago two weeks ago when things got too hard to handle. But it's not the same. The person sleeping next to her proves it, and so does the gentle kiss she presses against his forehead.

Mere months have passed, and yet she is _nothing_ like the Erin who got onto a red-eye flight to Chicago and didn't look back until she had to.

But she still has ways to go.

She starts with the unit. Standing in front of them to address the thing they may or may not have heard at Molly's is hard—possibly the hardest thing she's done. But the looks of the guys, accompanied with words of bolster are anything but.

"I'm proud of you, kiddo." He's leaning on the doorframe of his office, watching the scene from a distance, like he normally does. She smiles in acknowledgement of his words.

"Thanks, Hank."

The biggest surprise comes from Claire—who despite Erin's best efforts—was still cold and unfriendly for no obvious reason.

"If you don't mind, I'd really like to take you somewhere. If you have time after work."

Her voice is soft, unlike anything Erin has ever heard from her before, so she nods in agreement, pondering about what Claire wants to show her.

When they make their way into one of those community buildings, and Claire presents her to the group made up mostly of women and a couple of men, all sitting in a circle, it all starts to make sense. By the end of Claire's story, Erin's eyes are filled with tears, and their eyes meet for a second. How did she ever miss this? How did a survivor not recognize survivor?

The meeting cleanses her in a way that no shrink appointment could, and she finds herself agreeing to come back just as Claire walks her out.

"I'm sorry for what happened to you. And I'm sorry if I was a bitch. It's just, I have a hard time around men. I know, a disaster in this line of work, most cops are guys, but I manage. It took a long time for me to feel comfortable around Jay, and just when I was really starting to trust him, you waltzed in and stole my partner. I was so pissed off. I know it wasn't your fault, but I guess I misdirected my anger."

"I get it," Erin assures, immediately putting herself in Claire's shoes, and offering a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry for what happened to you, too."

"The meetings help, and I'm more than happy to share this group with you, if you ever need it."

"I might take you up on that."

And as soon as the words leave her lips, Erin knows they're not a lie. What Claire gave her was a feeling of peace and belonging. The knowledge that she definitely was not alone in her struggle. A place where she can share her story without being judged or pitied.

And for the first time since she got to Chicago, she feels like her life is falling into place.

Until the moment her phone rings.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: My lovelies! I have successfully brought this story to an end just the way I wanted. It was never supposed to be a super long one–only long enough for Erin to deal with her demons, and with that, dealing with my own in the process. I hope you enjoyed this journey, I know I loved writing it. I know I put a little bit of my soul in it for you guys.**

 **And as a last thing: if you've been a victim of sexual assault, rape or anything of the sorts, please reach out. Find help. Erin didn't do it alone, and you don't have to either. I love you, and stay safe!**

 **Huge thanks to my beta Sarah! She really is the best, and honestly I feel so much more comfortable posting my writing since I have her editing my stuff. A huge thank you also to Sarah and to Aurelie who helped me brainstorm ideas!**

 **Last but not least, to everyone who reviews: THANK YOU. You are my driving force. You are my inspiration.**

 **P.s. this is one hella long AN but please don't hate me, I get sentimental finishing a story.**

* * *

Something is definitely not right with Erin. Jay doesn't want to push, but the silence that follows that single phone conversation is a clear sign. She doesn't talk to him—she doesn't say a word about the call, but there is a vulnerable look in her eyes that he's able to recognize after all this time.

Their move was finalized a couple of days ago. Erin didn't really have that much stuff to move, and a good amount of it was at his apartment already. But their living situation is still new and fragile, and even weird sometimes, and when she gets like this—pulls back into her shell—he isn't sure what to do. How far he can push. How far he _should_ push.

"Babe, talk to me," he nudges gently when they finally get home.

"It's fine. I'm fine."

He doesn't respond, just looks at her with that _I-know-you're-lying_ look he's got down to a T. If he got a penny for every time that she looked at him all broken and said she was fine, he'd be a richer man than he is.

"I don't want to. Not yet. Kiss me first."

If her request confuses him, he doesn't show it. He simply obliges without hesitation, and when their lips touch, everything behind her eyelids goes golden and bright, just like she knew it would, and for a moment she forgets about the phone call and melts into him. Her hands lock behind his neck as she pulls him in deeper, trying to prolong the oblivion that comes with his kiss.

But as much as she loves this little bubble they can wrap themselves in, she knows it's bound to pop eventually. So when she pulls away, her hand is on his chest and her lower lip is trembling.

"They found him."

It takes Jay a split second to put two and two together. "Are you sure it's the right guy?"

"Based on the DNA from my rape kit, it's the same guy. He did it to another woman, Jay. If I had done more to find him…"

"No, don't say that. You were recovering from a trauma, that was someone else's job."

Her eyes dart to the floor and she wonders if there will ever come a day when she won't blame herself at least in some way for what happened to her. But she made peace with that—as much as she could—and she went to therapy and she worked as hard as she could, so he wouldn't end up being the winner.

"I got a call from the detective on the case. They got him a while ago, but he said he didn't want to give me false hope until they actually built a case. Apparently, the trial is coming up. I have to go down, see it for myself. If I can get this closure—if I know he's going away for what he did, maybe it'll help."

"Then we'll go. You're not dealing with this alone."

Because she's been anticipating his words—and because she's been learning to accept help when she needs it—she simply nods. Erin allows him to envelop her in his arms, where it's safe, and quietly wonders when they became a _we_ instead of an I.

After a while, she realizes she likes it.

* * *

"Do you mind if we make a quick stop? I want to tell Hank and Camille in person."

"No, of course not." He replies, trying to sound casual, but the fact that they're together still feels like they're getting away with something, and he hasn't yet been grilled by his boss about dating his daughter, so he likes to avoid giving him an opportunity. "I'm getting the third degree, aren't I? Do you see this? I go to hell and back for you," he teases, loving the fact that it brings out the dimples.

"You do," she says, completely serious all of a sudden. "You don't have to come."

She's giving him a way out. Not just out of stopping at Hank's, but out of coming to New York with her. But he doesn't need one—doesn't want one. "I'm coming. You're not alone. You never have to be alone again."

They make their way to the door, and Jay tries to ignore the unshed tears in her eyes, and instead places a reassuring hand on her lower back. Camille gushes and hurries them both inside, already extending an invitation to dinner that they both anticipated.

As Erin takes her parents through the conversation she's had with the detective from New York, Jay plays with his potatoes, not really feeling any appetite. It's not fair that she should suffer like this twice, and when he meets his sergeant's eyes across the table, he knows that's the one thing they agree on.

"So, I'm gonna go, see if I can get some closure," Erin babbles, trying to sound casual. She doesn't want to cause them more pain by bringing this up. She's glad Jay is here, so she can lace her fingers through his under the table, getting strength from him.

"And I'm going with her," Jay assures, without even asking the boss for permission. He looks at him defiantly, wondering if he'll object. He would quit his job if necessary. But he knows it won't come to that.

"That's good," Hank says, clearing his throat slightly. It's hard to accept that his rebellious teen has grown into a strong woman that doesn't need him anymore. Maybe she never needed him. Or maybe the fact that she _doesn't_ means they did their job well. "You'll keep us posted?"

Erin nods, and with that, they can move into lighter waters. By the time they leave, her typical dimples are back, and she's trying her best not to show that inside she's breaking all over again.

* * *

Their stay in New York gets quite long, and though they know that their team is managing without them, they're both anxious to get home. Living out of a hotel room isn't ideal—not for their bank accounts or their minds. It feels crowded and foreign and combined with the nerves brought on by the trial, it's causing additional stress to them both.

So when the verdict is reached, they're relieved. And when the verdict is guilty, she cries into his shoulder, her entire body shaking as she watches the man who ruined her being taken away in cuffs.

They get back to their room, both tired and emotionally drained. But Erin feels closure in knowing he'll be behind bars for a long, long time. She weeps again—for what happened to her, for what happened to two other women. She weeps for the humiliating awful rape kit she had to go through in order to have her small victory. And when she's done weeping, she kisses him, and celebrates the fact that she can.

"Make love to me," she whispers, her eyes still filled with unshed tears, and she gulps almost as if she's nervous he'll refuse. But he looks at her like she's not broken, and his lips draw a map across her body, kissing every inch like it's the first time. His lips make her body arch against the mattress, and his hands her body squirm beneath his touch.

Every item of clothing is peeled off carefully, every inch of newly-exposed skin covered by his lips. Every pull is met with a push, until he fills her completely, and she knows, by his side, she'll never give up. He takes, but gives back in double, making her feel like she's the most loved woman in the world.

And when they come together, those are the words they whisper. _I love you._ Because if Erin ever thought anything could heal the wound inside of her, it would be his voice whispering just that.

* * *

 _This can't be happening right now. Why does life have the worst timing?_

Erin knows her face is pale—paler than Jay should see—so she splashes some ice-cold water against her skin in hopes of getting some colour back. It doesn't do much, but the shock does help her brain recover a little. Then, she presses a hand against her chest, mentally willing her heart to slow down.

The return home has been anything but smooth. The trial took its toll on both of them, and it didn't help that they got slammed with work as soon as they came home. Lately, it just seems like there is problem after problem, and she's slowly starting to think that maybe he deserves better than her and her messed up life.

"Babe, everything okay? You look kind of pale." His voice is full of concern, and for some reason it irritates her.

"I'm fine. You don't need to fuss so much about me," she snaps at him, hating herself a little for every harsh word spoken between them. "I just need some damn space!"

Saying the words fills her with something dangerously close to disgust. Her stomach churns, and she presses a hand against it before looking at him, eyes tired and heavy. There is an obvious hint of confusion on his face, mixed with worry and even a bit of anger. They should talk about it; she should tell him what's on her mind. But that would be too easy.

So instead of talking, they have a fight at 23:42, because she's tired and emotional and because he's also tired and missing a big chunk of relevant information.

"You want space? How about I give you some then?" He looks hurt out of his mind, and then a minute later, the door slams behind him, almost as if he takes all of his frustration out on a piece of wood instead of her. Immediately after, Erin lets the tears fall.

She stays up until two in the morning before she realizes he's not coming home. She doesn't sleep a wink that night, tossing and turning in the bed that's too big and too cold, staring into the abyss, wondering if she just ruined the best thing that's ever happened to her.

* * *

Erin can barely look Jay in the eye at work the next morning. Signs of a rough night on his face don't make her feel any less horrible. The snappy attitude that comes with it also wins him a warning from the boss before they even start handling the case. The team dynamics are off as a consequence, and Erin hopes Hank won't notice it's because of them.

Jay avoids her eyes the entire day, and though she was the one who yelled at him to give her some space, she feels all the space he's giving her is suffocating. All these emotions also make her want to cry all the time, and she barely makes it through the day.

She learns from Antonio that Jay spent the night at Will's, and she's surprised to feel relief at this bit of information. But her surprise doesn't last long—she knows Jay is not the kind of guy who would go out and cheat on her after one fight (or ever for that matter).

She has time to figure stuff out, so at the end of their shift, she sits in the passenger seat of his car and they ride home together—in silence, but together.

When they get to the apartment, Jay throws her a questioning look.

"I'm fine. Probably just need to catch up on some sleep," she replies, not having to try to pass as tired—she's exhausted. That's what one night without him will do to her.

"I'll be here when you're ready to talk. Whatever it is—we'll deal with it together."

She takes a short shower and crawls into the bed that is now theirs, shifting uncomfortably when he joins her.

He doesn't press or question her need for rest and space, perhaps thinking this is some sort of PTSD from the trial. He switches off the light and turns his back to her, trying to give her as much space as he can. Despite her exhaustion, Erin doesn't sleep a wink that night either, instead laying on her bed, staring at the ceiling.

* * *

They finally get a breakthrough in the case, mainly thanks to Erin following up a very unlikely lead. Hank looks at her with pride as they plan the bust, and Erin throws glances at Jay, who returns with a worried gaze of his own.

She's about to chime in with an excuse that she doesn't feel that well—and with the thin layer of sweat coating her forehead, they probably would have believed it. But honestly, when did she ever turn down a raid? So she gears up with the rest of the team and allows Jay to help her with her bulletproof vest.

His fingers are so gentle with the straps, and his expression is so confused, she wants to talk right then and there, but there is no time, and this is not the space for personal issues. "Later," she murmurs, when he's done, and he nods in agreement.

When she looks back on that moment, she promises herself she will never let anything go unspoken again. Because _later_ is never a guarantee. Because they almost didn't get a _later._ Because rounds come flying at them, and the next thing she knows she feels a piercing pain that sends her flying to the ground before everything goes dark. The last thing she remembers is Jay's panicked voice, shouting something into her ear.

And whispering something back.

 _I'm sorry._

* * *

The ride to the hospital takes forever. He can literally feel the seconds dragging along while he holds her sticky hand as she slips in and out of consciousness. And all he can keep thinking is that this is not how it ends. Not when they're finally at a good place in their lives, with closure and new beginnings.

The doctors take over—Will is already waiting for them at the gate, along with two other trauma doctors and a nurse. Jay is grateful to see a familiar face, even if stares at him with a worry that reflects his own.

"It's gonna be okay, babe. I love you."

That's the moment she picks to open her eyes, as if she were gathering up the last of her strength to do so.

" _The baby. Please."_ She directs the sentence at the doctor, and with those words, everything goes dark, and Jay's life stops for a minute as well, while the doctors take her away with the words "possible pregnancy" being thrown around. And suddenly it all makes perfect sense.

* * *

Erin has the weirdest dream.

It's a memory that she's reliving. A conversation they've had months ago about their pasts. She told him about David, and he told her about Ava, his ex-girlfriend. The conversation was mostly prompted by Ruzek making a simple comment about Ava, and Erin being too curious for her own good.

 _"_ _So why did you break up with her?" She wonders, looking at the photograph of a radiant young woman in Jay's arms. According to Ruzek it was pretty serious, which is why she brought it up. If they're going to be together, she should know important things about his life._

 _"_ _We were just at a different place. I wanted to pursue my career, she wanted to start a family. I just wasn't ready, you know?"_

 _Erin laughs and nods. She does know. She remembers that feeling—how foreign it sounded. Starting a family._

 _"_ _You've got nothing to worry about," he assures her._

 _A silence follows the sentence, and he smiles, pressing a soft kiss on her lips. Despite his reassuring words, she's not sure that's exactly true._

* * *

Breathing is hard. Opening her eyes is hard. Everything seems painful and exhausting and Erin just wants to stay asleep for a little while longer, but something tells her to wake up.

She pries her eyes open, trying to swallow.

The first thing she sees is a hospital room. She strains her memory, and slowly it starts coming back—how they were ambushed, how the bullets came flying in all over the place. The searing pain, the paralyzing fear, her quiet confession in the ER, and most of all, Jay's shocked expression.

She screwed up so badly. She had no idea things could go so wrong at the worst time ever. And now he most definitely hates her. But he's there nonetheless. Sleeping in a chair that's not big enough to hold his manly body. His mouth is parted slightly, and he looks so… broken.

"Jay," she whispers, barely able to speak. She tries again. "Jay." It comes out a little louder, and it's enough to bring the hypersensitive Jay out of his slumber. He shakes his head, looking at her like he doesn't quite believe she's awake.

"Erin." It's one word that comes out, sounding almost pained. "Thank god."

She doesn't know whether she really expected him to not be there. Maybe she did—but really, she didn't. She knows him better than that. But what she forgets to take into account are her bloody hormones. Tears well up in her eyes and spill over. As soon as she lets that one weep out, it's done. His arms are around her and she feels so safe. She never really stands a chance.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. Hey, please stop. God, I thought I lost you. You scared me so bad."

"I should have told you." It feels good to talk—to get her voice back to normal. "When we were in New York, I was stressed because of the trial. I was a mess," she confessed, remembering the days. "I was completely out of it." And he was there then, as she's sure he'll be here now.

"I know."

"I forgot to take one of my pills. I didn't think it would matter, since I took it the next morning, but then…" Then he had looked at her like she wasn't broken and her insides melted and she wanted him. She wanted him beneath the sky of the city that hurt her so much. All she wanted was one good memory.

And Jay did not fail her that night.

"Then we…"

"Yeah. I know this is all my fault. I'm sorry. This is not your problem, Jay. You've had more than enough shit thrown at you already. You deserve better than me, so maybe it's for the best. Maybe we should just…" She's babbling and she knows it.

"I'm pretty sure it takes two people to make a baby, Erin," he says. "Why didn't you tell me? Why did you go out in the field?"

"That conversation we had about exes? When you said you broke up with your girlfriend because she wanted to start a family, and you two weren't in the same place. I panicked, what can I say. I wanted to stay behind, but… I don't know why I didn't."

"I felt panic with her, when she brought it up. Because she wasn't the right person. And you are. You're the only right person. And I will love our baby as much as I love you."

"Wait, what?" Jay's use of future tense does not escape her broken mind. She immediately places a protective hand on her belly. "Really?"

"I promise."

And for the first time in forever, Erin feels like there is no heavy weight pressing down on her chest. She's leaving her past behind, her rapist is finally behind bars, and she's starting a family with Jay—there is no imminent threat to her happiness. She looks at Jay who's grinning down at her like he just won the lottery.

"Wait, you're happy?"

"I mean the timing caught us by surprise, but I always wanted a family with you. I love you. You're _it_ for me."

"I love you too."

"Now, don't think we're not gonna talk about how you wanted to break up with me just now."

"Later."

They clutch onto one another. Erin's hands are wrapped around Jay's shirt, and he's cupping her face as he kisses her passionately and sloppily, their grins mixed up with their previous tears. Both of them are desperate to be with each other after going through hell and back, facing down all possible complications thrown in their way.

When the dust settles, all that's left, and all that matters anymore is them and their family. And Erin knows she wouldn't have it any other way.

There's still a lot unspoken, a lot that needs to be said but that doesn't matter right now because Erin is alive, their baby is fine and they're in love—and nothing is ever going to change that.

* * *

"What if I'm bad at it?"

"That's impossible," she whispers, leaning back against the cold wall of the clinic waiting room. "There hasn't been a time when you weren't there for me one hundred percent. This kid will be lucky to have you as a dad. I promise."

"Oh my god, we should get a bigger place. I don't think our apartment is big enough," he starts babbling before she stops him and laughs.

"I hate to disappoint you, but this kid is not coming out for at least six months. We have time to figure things out. Maybe get a puppy, practice a little." The words are said with her tongue sticking out, so he knows she's joking, but there is one other thing on his mind. But he shakes it, because the timing is just horrible.

* * *

"Marry me?"

Jay looks up from his breakfast cereal and almost chokes on it. "What?"

"I know you're not going to ask me now, but I found the ring before I even found out about the baby and I've been waiting for you to ask me for weeks. You think if you ask me now, I'll think you just proposed to me because I'm pregnant. So you're gonna wait, and by the time you propose we're gonna be fifty, and I'm just not willing to wait so long to be your wife."

"You knew about the ring?"

She wasn't snooping. She was simply putting away laundry and found the black velvet box in one of his drawers. Her breath stopped at the time, a soft gasp coming out, but her curiosity won and she opened it. If she hadn't known it before, she would have known it then—Jay was the only man she could see in her future.

"I found it when I was searching for a shirt."

"But I had it in my drawer!"

"And I wanted your shirt," she pouts. "They're big and soft and comfy."

"Erin..."

"I love you, Jay. I want to marry you. I want this baby to have our name. I want us to be a family."

"Will you ever stop shocking the hell out of me?"

"Nope!"

"Thank god," he whispers and smiles into the kiss, thinking that out of all possible words to describe their future life together, _boring_ is definitely not one of them.

* * *

 **Epilogue**

It's a loud day in the Halstead residence—it always is when the whole family comes together. And nearly no one is missing. The number of people around reminds her that family is love, not blood.

Odd tables have been strung together to make one long one—surrounded by chairs and benches to accommodate any and all guests. They're lucky that the weather is cooperating, because Erin doesn't know how she'd fit all these people into their house. But she would if she had to.

The kids are playing together; the older ones taking care of the young ones, making sure they get something to eat. Dogs sidle up to the table—they're ordered firmly away, though more times than not, someone will sneak food into a hungry mouth. The guys are barbequing, because apparently that's a man's job, and after years of living with men, Erin has finally given up on ever changing that. Even though Jay did teach Lily all his tricks, and she can grill a steak better than Jay himself.

There are conversations—about recipes and work and million other things. At least six different arguments are going on at the same time, and if an outsider was watching, it would appear they're fighting, but to them it's just another way of interacting.

Antonio is trying to convince Jay that the Cubs are going to win this year, and Jay gets backup from Will almost immediately, defending their White Sox roots. Hank and Camille are sitting together, their smiles wide and happy. It's a weird feeling, she thinks, to watch your parents grow old. The people who once could do anything, now limited by their age. But Hank could still take her in the range, and even after all these years, she would still listen to Camille's lectures with fear in her eyes. Most of the old unit is here—Claire with Severide and their little girl, who Severide absolutely dotes on. It fills her heart with love.

"Hey, sweetie, did you get anything to eat?"

She watches the boy shake his head, and already has a plate ready for him. Liam is their youngest, and even though he's not their biological son, he's so much like Jay already.

"Here, mom. Let me." Emma is their middle child, twelve years old and in awe of her brother, so Erin knows Liam is in good hands with her.

The vegetable plates are getting dangerously empty, so she's sneaking into the house to fill them when two strong arms take hold of her. Inhaling the familiar scent, she lets him press a kiss to her neck, all the while leaning back into him.

"Let's go upstairs, we can lock the door. Nobody will miss us," he whispers into her ear, possessively squeezing her butt.

"That's what you said the last time," she replies with warmth and fun in her voice, finally turning around and linking her arms around his neck.

"Yeah," he says, stretching the _yeah_ witha playful twinkle in his eyes. "That's why I said lock the doors." He raises his eyebrows at her, taking her back to a certain moment when he reminded her that they no longer worked together.

She leans in for a kiss and lets him to lift her on the counter. The window has a curtain, but if somebody came near enough, they would see them. But in that moment Erin doesn't care. Their tongues meet with the kind of heat that nobody would expect from parents of teenagers; but even after all these years, he still makes her feel the same he did that first night that changed things between them. ~

At the sound of someone's throat clearing, they reluctantly pull apart, though they don't immediately switch their positions.

"Mom, Dad." Lily looks at them, obviously grossed out by their actions, all the while trying to avert her eyes. "They sent me in to get tomatoes." She quickly grabs them from the kitchen island. "Carry on. Maybe get a room. We cook food on in here!"

Being caught by their eldest daughter makes Erin resolve into a puddle of giggles, and Jay buries his face into her neck.

"This is what we get."

"I wouldn't change it for the world."

"Me neither. Happy anniversary, babe."

"Happy anniversary." She smiles, and adds with a wink. "Come on, let's go get that room, maybe nobody will notice."

 _Never ever boring._

 **The end**


End file.
